THE  SON  gf 

MARY  BETHEL 


By  EISA  BARKER 


THE   SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 


The  Son  of  Mary  Bethel 


By 

Elsa  Barker 


"7  know  not  whether  this  book   it  worth  anything,  nor  what  the  world  will 

do  with  it,  or  misdo,or  utterly  forbear  to  do,  as  ii  likeliest;  but  this  I  could  tell 

the  world:      Tou  ham  not  had  for  a  hundred  jears  any   took  that  comes  mart 

direct  and  jlaminglj  from  the  heart  of  a  living  man.    Do  what  }t,u  like  with  if." 

THOMAS  CARLYLB,  of  his  French  Revolution. 


NEW  YORK 

DUFFIELD  &  COMPANY 
1909 


COPYRIGHT,  1909,  BY 
DUFFIELD  &  COMPANY 


Published  September,  1909 


THE  PREMIER  PRESS 
NEW  YORK 


To  the  Memory  of  My  Mother. 
LOUISE  MARIA 

Who  taught  me  the  meaning  of  'Faith, 
Hope,    and    Charity — whose 
other  name  is  Love. 


2229169 


CONTENTS 
BOOK    I 


THE  PROMISE 


BOOK    II 
THE  PREPARATION      ...     ......       123 

BOOK    III 
THE  FULFILMENT      .........       209 

BOOK    IV 
THE    SACRIFICE      ..........       381 


BOOK  I 

THE    PROMISE 


The   Son   of  Mary   Bethel 


CHAPTER   I 

HE  was  a  strange  child,  given  to  long  reveries  almost  from 
the  cradle.  As  Mary  Bethel  told  her  husband  one  day 
when  Jesse  was  three  years  old :  "  You  would  think,  to 
see  him  gazing  off  into  the  sky  with  that  rapt  look  in  his 
eyes,  that  he  was  trying  to  remember  something  that  hap- 
pened ages  before  he  was  born."  The  young  mother  was 
herself  a  dreamer,  and  sometimes  wrote  verses  in  secret. 
Jesse  was  her  first  child,  and  she  had  searched  the  Scrip- 
tures for  a  name  which  should  be  an  inspiration  and  a 
source  of  strength  to  him  in  after  life.  Mary  was  a 
religious  woman  who  deeply  realised  her  religion,  having 
a  larger  heart  and  a  larger  brain  than  any  of  her  neigh- 
bours. From  an  old  Biblical  dictionary  she  learned  the 
meaning  of  the  name  Jesse,  "  the  Lord  is."  So,  as  the 
existence  of  her  Lord  was  very  real  to  her,  she  called  the 
child's  name  Jesse. 

Though  two  other  sons  came  later  to  fill  her  heart  and 
to  lessen  her  scant  leisure,  they  seemed  to  be  of  a  different 
spirit  from  the  first-born.  Never  would  she  have  admitted 
that  she  loved  them  less  than  him;  but  on  the  night  when 
the  swamp  woods  were  on  fire  behind  the  house,  it  was  the 
little  Jesse  she  held  close  in  her  arms  through  the  long  hours 
of  watching,  while  the  two  younger  boys  slept  heavily  side 
by  side  on  the  broad  lounge  at  the  other  end  of  the  kitchen. 

The  husband  of  Mary  Bethel  was  a  kind  and  quiet  man 
of  middle-age,  some  twenty  years  her  senior.  He  was  by 
trade  a  carpenter,  and  occasional  work  of  building  and  re- 
pairing added  enough  to  the  income  of  their  few  acres  to 
give  them  peace  and  plenty. 

Two  decades  after  the  Civil  War,  the  standard  of  liv- 
ing was  simple  among  the  farming  people  of  Western  Ver- 
mont. They  were  artless  and  full  of  elemental  grace.  The 


4  THE   SON    OF  MARY   BETHEL 

annual  flood  of  summer  visitors  from  the  large  cities,  that 
later  brought  disturbing  suggestions  of  a  more  complex  ex- 
istence, had  hardly  then  begun.  But  for  the  railroad  and 
the  weekly  newspaper,  the  life  of  the  dwellers  in  N  ash- 
burgh  and  the  neighbouring  towns  might  almost  have  been 
likened  to  that  of  the  inhabitants  of  Palestine  in  the  early 
years  of  our  era.  Extremes  of  poverty  and  wealth  were 
practically  unknown.  On  the  table  of  the  poorest  family 
there  was  enough  of  wholesome  if  coarse  food,  and  the  most 
prosperous  farmer  and  his  wife  sat  down  to  eat  with  their 
farm-hands  and  hired  girls  in  at  least  the  semblance  of 
fraternity.  When  in  the  meeting-house,  those  who  made 
the  profession  of  religion  were  wont  to  call  each  other 
"  brother  "  and  "  sister."  Though  generally  reserved  for 
Sunday,  this  ancient  custom  was  an  occasional  reminder 
of  that  ideal  which  they  believed  they  sought  to  realise. 
Religion  was  much  talked  about,  and  if  the  tears  so  freely 
shed  at  the  revival  meetings  were  true  testimony,  it  must 
have  been  at  least  emotionally  experienced. 

The  books  in  that  remote  farmhouse  of  the  Bethels  were 
few,  and  mostly  of  a  religious  character;  though  two  or 
three  well-worn  volumes  of  the  best  English  poetry  were 
on  the  table  in  the  sitting-room,  beside  the  family  Bible 
and  the  album.  But  when  Jesse  was  seven  years  old,  and 
the  two  other  boys  five  and  four,  a  literary  event  occurred 
in  the  Bethel  home.  The  child  of  a  more  prosperous  neigh- 
bour gave  "  The  Book  of  Wonder  "  to  the  eldest  son  of 
Mary.  This  precious  gift  was  a  token  of  appreciation  of 
the  bravery  of  Jesse  in  subduing,  with  his  gentle  voice  and 
affectionate  arms,  the  anger  of  a  passing  dog  whose  loud 
barks  and  widely  displayed  white  teeth  had  alarmed  not 
only  the  children  but  their  mothers. 

"  The  Book  of  Wonder  "  was,  for  Jesse,  the  door  into 
another  world.  He  was  familiar  with  the  idea  of  angels 
and  other  lofty  supernatural  beings,  whose  pictures  were  in 
the  family  Bible;  they  were  to  be  regarded  with  awe  and 
veneration  from  a  respectful  distance.  But  fairies,  and 
brownies,  and  sylphs,  and  salamanders!  Oh,  these  were 
the  companions  for  whom  his  soul  had  yearned !  No  revela- 
tion of  the  unfamiliar  splendours  of  foreign  lands  can  ever 
mean  to  a  grown  man  or  woman  what  an  illustrated  book 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL  5 

of  'fairy  lore  and  beauty  may  mean  to  an  imaginative  child. 
At  the  age  of  seven  Jesse  could  read  as  well  as  most  chil- 
dren of  ten  or  eleven,  and  the  first  hours  of  his  possession  of 
"  The  Book  of  Wonder  "  were  hours  of  such  intense  in- 
tellectual excitement  that  outwardly  he  was  so  still  his 
mother  was  afraid.  She  was  too  wise  to  take  the  book  away 
from  him;  though  when  his  bedtime  came  there  was  no 
appeal  from  her  decision  that  the  wonderful  thing  must 
be  put  away  until  the  morrow. 

Jesse  could  not  sleep.  After  lying  for  half  an  hour,  he 
called  to  his  mother,  softly,  so  as  not  to  waken  the  other 
boys : 

"Mother!     Mother!" 

She  came  to  the  half-open  door  of  the  bedroom.  It  was 
in  the  middle  of  the  summer  and  still  only  twilight,  though 
past  eight  o'clock. 

"  What  is  it,  child  ?    Why  are  you  not  asleep  ?  " 

"Mother,  when  is  Midsummer  eve?" 

"  I  don't  know,  Jesse :  the  middle  of  the  summer,  I  sup- 
pose. Why  don't  you  go  to  sleep  ?  " 

"  But,  Mother,  I  want  to  know  when  is  Midsummer 
eve." 

She  came  over  to  the  bed  and  took  his  hand.  It  was 
hot,  and  vibrant  writh  the  inner  force  which  she  had  grown 
almost  to  fear  in  him.  After  a  moment  she  gently  laid  his 
hand  back  on  the  coverlet,  and  said  in  a  whisper:  "  Do 
not  wake  the  children.  I  will  look  in  the  almanac.  I  will 
come  back  and  tell  you." 

He  was  sitting  up  in  bed  when  she  re-entered  the  room. 

"  Well,  Mother?"  he  whispered. 

"  Midsummer  eve  is  the  twenty-fourth  of  June." 

"And  when  is  it  now?  " 

"  This  is  the — wait  a  moment — Why,  this  is  the  twenty- 
fourth  of  June." 

"Oh,  Mother!" 

He  reached  up  and  caught  her  around  the  neck,  drawing 
her  down  to  him.  She  felt  his  small  heart  beating  wildly 
through  her  thin  summer  dress. 

"  Mother,"  he  whispered  excitedly,  "  the  Book  says  that 
on  Midsummer  eve,  at  midnight,  the  fairies  all  come  out 
and  dance  upon  the  grass.  They  will  come  out  to-night! 


They  will  dance  upon  our  grass!  Around  the  rose-bushes, 
the  Book  says,  around  and  around  the  rose-bushes.  Oh, 
I  must  see  them!  How  long  before  midnight,  Mother?  " 

"  My  darling!  Won't  you  go  to  sleep?  It  is  hours  and 
hours  before  midnight.  You  can  never  stay  awake.  And  if 
you  should,  you  wouldn't — you  might  not  see  them." 

"  Yes,  I  will  stay  awake.  How  will  I  know  when  it's 
midnight?  " 

"  The  clock  strikes  twelve  at  midnight." 

"  The  same  as  it  does  at  noon?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  before  that,  you  know,  it  will  have  to  strike 
nine,  and  ten,  and  eleven,  with  a  long,  long  hour  between 
each  striking.  You  could  never  keep  awake." 

"Will  you  come  in  and  kiss  me  good-night,  Mother, 
before  you  go  to  bed  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  you  are  not  asleep." 

"  I  shall  not  be  asleep." 

Before  ten  o'clock  she  came  again,  not  thinking  to  find 
him  awake,  but  merely  to  keep  the  letter  of  her  promise. 
So  still  he  lay,  that  she  would  have  passed  out  again  in 
silence  had  not  his  whisper  held  her. 

"  What  time  is  it  now?  " 

She  told  him,  as  she  gave  the  good-night  kiss,  then  went 
away  and  left  him  alone.  He  was  no  longer  feverish,  for 
the  little  hand  was  cool  and  normal,  and  she  thought  he 
would  soon  fall  asleep.  So  she  went  to  her  own  bed  in  the 
next  room. 

After  a  sound  slumber  Mary  awoke.  The  clock  was  strik- 
ing. As  the  last  tones  reverberated  through  the  silent  house, 
she  thought  she  heard  a  sound  as  of  a  clicking  latch. 

Slipping  quietly  from  the  bed  so  as  not  to  waken  her 
husband,  she  went  with  bare  feet  into  the  little  entry  at  the 
front  of  the  house.  The  outer  door  which  led  into  the 
garden  was  wide  open.  Noiselessly  she  passed  to  the  thresh- 
old and  looked  out. 

There  in  the  violet  moonlight  stood  the  child,  his  long 
white  nightgown  sharply  outlined  against  the  dark  back- 
ground of  currant-bushes.  Suddenly  she  saw  him  bend 
forward,  half  crouching,  gazing  intently  at  something  be- 
tween him  and  the  rose-bushes  bordering  the  path.  Only 
a  minute  or  two  he  bent  there,  motionless,  apparently  spell- 


bound ;  then,  throwing  up  his  arms  exultingly,  without  a 
sound  he  began  to  walk  swiftly  to  and  fro  over  the  damp 
grass,  regardless  of  his  naked  feet,  his  scantily  clad  body, 
unmindful  of  everything  save  the  unquenchable  flame  of 
his  idea.  At  the  age  of  seven,  the  son  of  Mary  Bethel  had 
discovered  the  Invisible. 

After  a  few  moments  the  mother  went  out  on  the  door- 
step and  waited  quietly  till  he  should  turn  and  see  her. 
She  feared  to  startle  him  too  suddenly  from  his  abstraction 
should  she  call  his  name,  or  by  any  sound  apprise  him  of  her 
presence.  But  soon  he  turned  of  his  own  accord  and  came 
up  the  path,  then  saw  her  standing  by  the  open  door.  She 
went  a  few  steps  toward  him,  extending  her  arms  to  the 
cold  little  form  which  rushed  to  meet  her. 

"Oh,  Mother,  I  saw  the  fairies!  The  Book  Is  true! 
There  are  fairies!  They  were  dancing  and  dancing  over 
the  grass  around  the  rose-bushes,  a  circle  of  them,  all  in 
green,  with  silvery  wings,  and  I  think  they  saw  me,  for  they 
all  at  once  let  go  of  hands,  and  off  they  were,  quick  as  a 
star  falls,  Mother.  And  I  am  so  happy  that  I  saw  them, 
for  now  I  know  the  Book  is  true.  And  if  I  can  see  them, 
other  people  can  see  them,  too,  Father  and  the  boys,  and 
maybe  all  other  people." 

"  Yes,  darling,  but  now  come  back  to  bed.  It  is  cold 
here,  and  you  have  no  shoes  on." 

So  she  led  him  back  to  his  bed,  and  sat  beside  him  till  his 
enthusiasm  finally  forgot  itself  in  the  delicious  languor  of 
relaxing  nerves  and  slipped  into  the  waiting  void  of  slum- 
ber. And  by  no  word,  nor  by  any  too-long  silence,  did  she 
give  the  child  to  feel  that  in  the  mind  of  his  mother  there 
could  be  a  possible  doubt  that  he  had  seen  the  midnight 
dance  of  the  fairies  around  the  rose-bushes  on  Midsummer 
eve. 

But  in  the  morning  she  advised  him  to  let  the  wonder 
remain  a  secret  between  themselves.  So  she  postponed  the 
dreamer's  inevitable  awakening  to  the  incredulity  of  a  mate- 
rial-minded world. 


CHAPTER    II 

EVERY  summer,  in  a  large  grove  some  twenty  miles  north 
of  Nashburgh,  there  was  held  a  religious  camp-meeting.  As 
the  husband  of  Mary  Bethel  was  not  in  sympathy  with 
these  periodical  expressions  of  collective  emotion,  she  rarely 
visited  the  camp-ground.  That  she  could  not  oftener  join 
in  the  summer  festival  of  her  church  was  a  cause  of  secret 
grief  to  her;  but  after  several  years  of  marriage  to  a  man 
whose  undoubted  love  for  her  had  never  found  refreshment 
at  the  wells  of  understanding,  and  whose  own  tastes  and 
limitations  tended  more  and  more,  as  time  went  on,  to  be- 
come the  boundaries  of  the  family's  experience, — after  sev- 
eral years  of  marital  compliance,  the  indulgence  of  her  own 
desires  had  come  to  be  a  part  of  the  vast  ocean  of  the  un- 
attainable, whose  voice  was  ever  calling  in  her  ears.  Before 
the  birth  of  Jesse  this  voice  had  called  incessantly,  and 
she  sometimes  wondered  if  the  strangeness  of  the  child  was 
not  the  answer  of  Nature  to  her  ceaseless  questioning.  In 
those  very  words  she  expressed  the  query  to  herself,  hav- 
ing more  education  than  was  usual  with  the  women  of  her 
class.  As  she  had  no  companionship  of  a  nature  to  stimulate 
the  mind,  all  the  enthusiasm  of  her  temperament  flowed  into 
the  broad  channel  of  religion, — all  save  one  small  stream, 
whose  unknown  way  she  found  by  means  of  the  volumes  of 
old  poetry  which  lay  beside  the  family  Bible  on  the  table 
in  the  sitting-room.  But  the  great  reality  of  Mary's  life  was 
an  ecstatic  adoration  of  her  Creator.  And  every  year,  be- 
tween haying  and  harvesting,  when  her  neighbours  made 
ready  for  the  annual  seven  days  at  the  Grove  camp-meeting, 
her  heart  made  ready  with  them;  but  only  once  during  all 
the  years  of  her  marriage  had  she  been  able  to  gratify  the 
desire. 

The  summer  after  Jesse  was  eight  years  old,  it  occurred 
one  day  to  Mary's  husband  that  she  was  looking  paler  and 
thinner  than  he  had  ever  seen  her;  that  her  eyes  were  less 

8 


THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL  9 

bright  than  usual  and  her  step  less  elastic  and  vital.  He 
turned  the  matter  over  in  his  mind  for  fully  a  week,  watch- 
ing her  meanwhile  as  she  busied  herself  about  the  house  and 
garden.  Then  one  evening  after  supper  he  followed  her 
into  the  bedroom,  where  she  had  gone  with  a  pile  of  freshly 
ironed  clothes,  and  putting  his  arm  around  her  shoulders, 
kissed  her  on  the  cheek.  He  was  not  given  to  such  demon- 
strations, and  she  looked  up  wonderingly  into  his  face. 

"  I've  been  thinking  about  you,  Mary,  for  a  week,"  he 
said.  "  You're  looking  peaked.  Been  working  too  hard, 
maybe.  It's  camp-meeting  next  week  at  the  Grove.  Sup- 
pose you  take  the  oldest  boy  and  go  up  there  for  a  few  days. 
The  change  will  do  you  good.  Aunt  Sue  Wheeler  will 
come  and  look  after  me  and  the  two  younger  children.  I 
don't  like  to  see  you  looking  peaked,  Mary." 

She  was  so  glad,  and  so  surprised,  that  she  laid  her  head 
against  his  shoulder  and  cried  for  a  minute  or  two.  Then 
she  laughed.  He  remembered,  with  a  pang,  that  he  had 
not  heard  her  laugh  for  weeks. 

"  You'll  feel  more  like  yourself  when  you  come  back,"  he 
said.  "  It  will  keep  your  spirits  up  while  waiting  for  that 
trip  to  Burlington  we're  going  to  have,  when  we  can  spare 
the  money." 

"  But  don't  you  want  to  go  with  me  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I 
always  enjoy  things  more  when  you  are  there  to  enjoy  them, 
too." 

"  No,  I  guess  not.  You  know  I'm  not  much  on  religion. 
I'll  stay  at  home  and  have  my  fun  going  fishing  with  the 
little  fellows.  I  don't  mean  on  Sunday;  I've  never  done 
that,  Mary,  since  the  boys  were  old  enough  to  take  notice. 
You  go  to  the  camp-meeting  with  .the  other  women  of  the 
church,  and  come  back  with  a  whole  flower-garden  bloom- 
ing in  your  face,  like  you  did  the  other  time  you  went,  when 
Henry  was  a  baby." 

Going  to  camp-meeting  involved  some  days  of  preparation. 
There  was  bedding  to  be  washed  and  packed,  a  new  straw- 
tick  to  be  made  ready  (the  straw  was  bought  on  the  camp- 
ground at  a  few  cents  the  tickfull)  ;  there  was  food  to  be 
cooked,  fresh  bread  and  doughnuts,  pies  and  sponge-cake, 
biscuits  and  ginger-cookies.  Mary  churned  the  day  before 
they  went,  so  they  could  have  new  butter,  also;  and  her 


10  THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

sweet  pickles  were  famous  even  beyond  the  boundaries  of 
Nashburgh. 

Great  was  Jesse's  delight  at  the  prospect  of  a  journey. 
He  had  never  been  farther  from  home  than  the  little  vil- 
lage, six  miles  to  the  south,  where  they  sold  their  grain  and 
bought  their  clothing,  and  the  little  mountain  settlement, 
ten  miles  to  the  northeast,  where  his  aunt  had  lived  until 
her  death,  one  year  before.  The  Grove,  being  twenty  miles 
away,  seemed  very  far  off  to  the  child, — not  like  the  wonder- 
ful places  pictured  in  the  geography,  for  they  were  beyond 
reach,  and  only  to  be  dreamed  about;  but  still  the  Grove 
was  far  enough  away  to  make  their  going  thither  the  great- 
est event  of  Jesse's  eight  long  years  of  life. 

The  younger  boys,  bribed  by  their  father's  promise  of 
twilight  fishing  in  the  creek,  were  quite  resigned  to  being  left 
at  home.  To  them,  going  to  camp-meeting  meant  nothing 
in  particular;  while  going  a-fishing  meant  hours  of  keen  ex- 
citement, perched  on  the  edge  of  the  bridge-planking,  their 
bare  feet  dangling;  meant,  if  they  were  lucky,  fine  bass  and 
bullpouts  fried  in  corn-meal  by  the  indulgent  Aunt  Sue. 
And  Aunt  Sue  also  had  a  recipe  for  gingerbread  which  was 
better  than  seven  camp-meetings. 

In  her  closet,  Mary  prayed  for  pleasant  weather.  Rain 
would  have  seemed  the  irony  of  Satan.  And  when  on 
Thursday  morning,  the  day  they  were  to  go,  the  yellow  rays 
of  the  sun  shining  on  her  eyelids  awoke  her,  she  bounded 
out  of  bed  with  a  joyous  little  prayer  of  thanksgiving.  Ev- 
erything had  been  packed  and  made  ready  the  night  before; 
and  as  soon  as  breakfast  was  over,  her  husband  hitched  old 
Topsy,  the  leisurely  black  mare,  to  the  lumber-wagon,  and 
loaded  on  the  trunk,  the  clothes-basket  of  provisions,  the  roll 
of  bedding,  two  wooden  chairs,  and  the  small  can  of  kerosene 

011  which  was  to  keep  their  light  shining  before  their  fel- 
low men. 

A  tent  was  not  included  in  their  outfit,  as  they  were  go- 
ing to  the  "  Nashburgh  tent,"  a  shelter  collectively  owned 
by  the  church  people  of  their  township.  By  a  curious  mis- 
use of  terms,  the  "  Nashburgh  tent "  was  a  frame  building, 
or  the  mere  shell  of  a  building,  where  on  these  occasions  the 
whole  town  clubbed  together  in  the  fraternity  of  communal 
housekeeping.  During  camp-meeting  time  the  railroad  com- 


THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL  11 

pany  was  indulgent  to  the  campers,  carrying  without  extra 
charge  their  conglomeration  of  luggage. 

At  the  railway-station,  two  miles  away,  they  met  other 
families  also  bound  for  the  Grove.  There  was  a  black-haired 
man  and  his  wife,  whom  Jesse's  mother  called  Brother  and 
Sister  Taylor,  and  the  young  Taylors,  two  boys  about 
Jesse's  age,  his  schoolfellows,  heavy  and  indifferent  children 
who  did  not  care  for  fairy  stories.  And  there  were  others 
whom  Jesse  remembered  having  seen  in  the  meeting-house, 
but  did  not  know  by  name. 

When  he  felt  the  car-wheels  moving  under  him,  the 
child  was  so  excited  that  he  gripped  his  mother's  hand,  in 
a  mute  appeal — for  what  he  did  not  know.  She  put  her 
arm  around  him  lovingly  (somehow,  she  always  under- 
stood), and  so  they  rode  the  whole  way,  past  farms  and 
woods  and  houses,  with  now  and  then  a  view  of  the  wind- 
ing river  between  its  high  green  banks.  As  they  went  further 
and  further  into  the  unfamiliar  country,  the  child  turned 
his  great  blue  eyes  to  his  mother's  face. 

"  Does  the  world  go  on  and  on  like  this,  Mother,  a  long, 
long  way  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear,  on  and  on  like  this,  all  the  way  around  the 
world." 

"  And  is  there  no  end,  no  place  where  everything  stops 
and  there  isn't  any  world  beyond?  " 

"  There  is  no  end." 

"And  if  I  should  go  on,  and  on,  and  on,  where  would  I 
come  to  ?  " 

"  If  you  should  go  on  long  enough,  you  would  come  back 
to  the  place  you  started  from." 

He  was  silent  for  a  time,  and  then  he  said : 

"  Mother,  if  God  made  the  world,  and  the  world  has  no 
end,  and  if  I  go  on  travelling  long  enough  I  come  back  to 
the  place  I  started  from;  and  if  God  made  me,  and  I  have 
no  end,  why,  if  I  go  on  living  long  enough,  won't  I  come 
back  to  the  place  I  started  from,  and  be  a  little  boy  again?  " 

"  Grove  Camp-ground !  "  called  the  conductor  at  the 
door  of  the  car.  And  in  the  bustle  of  leaving  the  train, 
Man7  was  spared  the  necessity  of  finding  an  answer  to  the 
child's  question. 

As  they  stepped  onto  the  platform, — there  was  no  station- 


12  THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

building, — the  scent  of  pine  and  hemlock  was  blown  to  them 
on  the  wind,  blown  into  their  consciousness,  changing  it, 
thrilling  it  as  with  something  wilder  and  nearer  to  the 
heart  of  things.  A  joyous  sense  of  freedom  possessed  them. 
The  world  of  every-day  was  left  behind,  and  they  found 
themselves  in  a  world  of  more  subtle  sounds  and  feelings. 
Old  neighbours  looked  at  each  other  in  surprise,  wondering 
at  beauties  never  before  observed  in  familiar  faces.  The 
sound  of  the  brook  over  the  stones  was  like  the  babble  of 
love  words  in  another  language,  heard  through  a  veil  of 
crystal.  And  though  a  soft  breeze  was  blowing,  the  air  as 
it  caressed  the  cheek  and  dallied  with  the  hair  seemed  in  no 
hurry  to  pass  on  and  leave  them,  but  lingered,  as  if  it  found 
a  pleasure  in  the  contact. 

It  was  already  the  third  day  of  the  meeting.  As  Mary 
and  Jesse  looked  about  them,  they  could  hear  the  chatter 
of  voices  among  the  pine-trees  to  the  west  of  the  railroad. 
Several  women  in  light  summer  dresses,  bareheaded  and 
sheltered  from  the  sun  by  parasols,  had  come  down  to  meet 
the  train.  One  of  them,  a  tall  young  lady  in  a  blue  dress, 
greeted  the  boy's  mother  with  a  kiss  and  seemed  to  have  been 
expecting  her. 

"  I'm  glad  you  brought  the  child/'  she  said.  And  Jesse's 
heart  swelled  with  joy  that  he,  too,  was  welcome  in  this 
strange  and  happy  company. 

The  camp-ground  was  a  natural  amphitheatre,  an  irregu- 
lar circle  some  twenty  rods  across,  surrounded  on  two  sides 
by  walls  of  earth  and  rock,  and  on  all  sides  by  pines  and 
hemlocks.  Scattered  here  and  there  among  the  trees  were 
the  tents  and  summer  buildings  of  a  dozen  neighbouring 
townships.  In  the  centre  of  the  open  space  was  a  great 
wooden  platform,  raised  a  little  from  the  ground,  and  over 
it  was  a  sloping  roof  of  canvas,  which  left  the  tent  open  on 
all  sides  to  passing  breezes,  though  protected  from  the 
strong  rays  of  the  August  sun.  This  platform  was  empty 
as  they  passed  around  it,  the  morning  services  not  yet  having 
begun. 

They  went  to  the  building  known  as  the  "  Nashburgh 
tent,"  where  several  women  whom  the  Bethels  knew  were 
busy  laying  a  long  table,  which  extended  nearly  the  whole 
length  of  the  one  room  forming  the  ground  floor.  Mary 


THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL  13 

and  Jesse  and  the  tall  girl  in  blue  went  up-stairs.  Here  was 
another  large  room,  divided  in  the  middle  by  white  curtains 
made  of  sheets  and  bed-spreads. 

"  We  women  are  on  the  right,"  said  the  girl.  "  I  sup- 
pose you  want  to  keep  the  child  near  you,  Sister  Bethel  ?  " 

"  I'd  rather,"  replied  the  child's  mother,  "  if  none  of  the 
other  women  object." 

"  They  won't  care,  for  he's  only  a  little  fellow.  By  the 
way,  have  you  heard  the  news?  I'm  going  to  teach  in  your 
district  this  fall." 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad!  I  wish  you  could  board  at  our  house; 
but  I  suppose  the  Taylors  will  board  the  teacher,  as  long 
as  he  is  the  committee." 

"  Yes,  probably.  Here  are  your  things  coming  up  the 
stairs  now,  Sister  Bethel.  Better  put  your  bed  next  to 
Aunt  Susan's  and  mine ;  then  Jesse  won't  quarrel  with  the 
Smith  children,  who  sleep  over  there." 

"  Why,  Jesse  never  quarrels !  "  answered  the  mother. 

The  two  women  were  still  arranging  the  belongings  of 
the  Bethels  when  a  loud  sweet-toned  bell  went  ringing  by 
the  house. 

"What's  that?"  asked  Mary,  looking  up  from  her  now 
half-empty  trunk. 

"  The  fifteen-minutes-bell,"  answered  Rose  Thomas. 
"  The  morning  service  is  at  ten  o'clock.  We  haven't  any 
church-bell,  so  Brother  Johnson  goes  around  the  circle  with 
the  hand-bell  from  the  Centre  schoolhouse." 

Soon  they  went  down-stairs,  and  Mary  greeted  other 
friends  and  neighbours.  Of  the  five  hundred  persons  with 
which  the  census  credited  their  township,  about  one-tenth 
availed  themselves  of  the  camp-ground  privilege.  The 
house  could  not  have  held  so  many  at  one  time;  but  as  they 
came  and  went  during  the  seven  days  of  the  meeting,  room 
was  always  found,  somehow. 

As  they  stood  waiting,  Jesse's  heart  beat  fast.  Already 
over  the  place  had  settled  that  hush — that  muffling  of  the 
personalities  and  stilling  of  the  faces — which  always  lies 
upon  an  Anglo-Saxon  crowd  preparing  for  the  exercise  of 
worship.  They  passed  out  of  doors  and  onto  the  platform 
under  the  great  canvas.  Then  the  whole  congregation  be- 
gan singing  "  Rock  of  Ages,  Cleft  for  Me." 


H  THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

Jesse  was  happy,  but  strangely  frightened — why,  he  did 
not  know.  He  had  been  to  church  many  times,  often  enough 
not  to  be  frightened  at  the  singing  or  the  crowd.  And  he 
eight  years  old  last  December!  He  breathed  deeply,  trying 
to  steady  the  trembling  of  his  heart.  Poor  little  one!  His 
sensitively  balanced  being  was  experiencing  for  the  first 
time,  with  overwhelming  intensity,  the  weight  of  the  great 
ocean-waves  of  collective  religious  emotion  which  vibrated 
through  and  over  and  under  and  around  this  assembly  of 
passionate  human  souls.  He  closed  his  eyes,  trying  to  shut 
out  the  world  that  seemed  to  rock  and  reel  around  him.  As 
the  last  note  of  the  song  died  away,  his  blond  head  fell  for- 
ward on  his  mother's  lap.  He  had  fainted. 

A  large  man  who  sat  on  Jesse's  other  side  lifted  the 
child  in  his  arms,  and,  at  a  signal  from  the  mother,  bore 
him  from  the  tent.  As  Mary  followed,  she  heard  a  voice 
behind  her: 

"  It's  the  glory  of  God,  Sister  Bethel !  Lay  him  on  the 
altar.  It's  the  glory  of  God !  " 

Mary  pressed  a  silencing  finger  on  her  white  lips.  "  Take 
him  to  the  house,  please,  and  put  him  on  the  bed,"  she  whis- 
pered to  the  large  man.  "  Give  me  some  cold  water, 
and  don't  let  anybody  come  up  the  stairs." 

After  a  few  moments  Jesse  became  conscious.  She  told 
him  simply  what  had  happened,  and  advised  him  to  be 
quiet  and  rest  a  little  while.  He  pressed  her  hand,  then 
lay  looking  up  at  the  square  of  green  waving  leaves  which 
was  the  window.  From  the  near-by  platform  came  the 
voice  of  the  evangelist,  exhorting  sinners  to  repentance.  To 
the  listening  child  the  words  of  the  text,  ever  and  ever  re- 
peated with  monotonous  insistence,  came  with  unanswered 
questions,  with  never-to-be-forgotten  summons  to  some  un- 
dreamed-of piace: 

"  Blessed  are  they  which  are  called  unto  the  marriage 
supper  of  the  Lamb." 

He  did  not  know  the  meaning  of  the  words;  but  every 
time  the  voice  outside  repeated  them,  he  pressed  his  mother's 
hand  and  closed  his  eyes.  There  was  little  co-ordination  in 
the  speaker's  thoughts  and  little  beauty  in  his  discourse,  but 
the  child  knew  nothing  of  this;  he  heard  only  the  voice, 
a  mellow  voice  thrilling  with  controlled  emotion,  and  it 


THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL  15 

seemed  to  be  calling  him  to  "  the  marriage  supper  of  the 
Lamb." 

"  Mother,"  he  whispered,  after  some  minutes,  "  what  is 
'  the  marriage  supper  of  the  Lamb  '  ?  " 

"The  supper  of  the  Lord  in  heaven,"  answered  the 
mother,  and  there  was  on  her  face  a  look  of  ecstasy  which 
he  had  never  seen  there. 

The  child  was  little  wiser  for  the  answer;  but  he  grew 
happier  with  every  passing  moment,  with  every  repetition 
of  that  mysterious  text:  "Blessed  are  they  which  are 
called  unto  the  marriage  supper  of  the  Lamb."  And  when 
the  voice  was  silent,  and  the  tones  of  the  organ  on  the  plat- 
form rolled  through  the  window,  he  sat  up  in  bed  and 
gripped  his  mother's  hand  in  both  his  own,  crying: 

"  Mother,  I  am  called  ...  I  am  called  to  the  sup- 
per, the  marriage  supper.  .  .  .  Oh,  Mother! "  And 
burying  his  face  in  her  bosom,  he  burst  into  tears. 

When  the  meeting  was  over  the  women  flocked  up- 
stairs and  gathered  round  the  bed,  congratulating  Mary 
on  the  child's  experience, — "losing  his  strength,"  as  they 
called  it,  in  the  vernacular  of  their  sect, — and  asking  him 
questions  he  did  not  understand.  But  the  wise  mother 
knew  the  child  was  overwrought  and  should  have  quiet, 
so  she  gently  asked  them  to  leave  him  until  dinner-time. 
Then  they  all  went  down-stairs  to  prepare  the  midday 
meal.  When  the  two  were  alone  again,  she  bent  and  kissed 
his  face  with  a  chastened  and  unearthly  passion,  her  eyes 
uplifted,  whispering  something  to  herself  which  his  ear 
could  not  distinguish.  Soon  after  he  fell  into  a  light 
sleep. 

The  sound  of  the  dinner-bell  awoke  him,  and  after  Mary 
had  bathed  his  face  in  cold  water  and  brushed  his  hair, 
they  went  down-stairs.  Seated  beside  his  mother  at  the 
long  table,  his  back  against  the  wall,  Jesse  ate  his  dinner, 
vaguely  wondering  if  the  marriage  supper  of  the  Lamb  was 
anything  like  this.  He  had  never  before  eaten  in  so  large 
a  company,  and  the  unusual  surroundings  took  away  his 
appetite.  Though  the  request  of  the  mother  that  the 
child  should  not  be  reminded  of  his  fainting-spell  had  been 
passed  along  the  line,  still  they  all  seemed  to  be  looking  at 
him  strangely;  and  he  was  glad  when  the  meal  was  over 


16  THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

and  he  could  escape  out  of  doors  with  the  other  children, 
while  his  mother  helped  the  women  wash  the  dishes. 

The  Taylor  boys,  who  had  come  up  on  the  train  with 
them  that  morning,  began  to  gibe  him  about  "  making  a 
show  of  himself  " ;  then  his  cousins,  Jim  and  Josie  Bethel, 
fell  upon  the  Taylor  boys  and  gave  them  a  good  beating 
before  their  parents  could  interfere.  So  early  did  he  become 
a  theme  of  contention  among  his  neighbours. 

Jesse  went  to  every  meeting  under  the  great  canvas,  but 
he  did  not  faint  again.  To  the  casual  eye  he  seemed  like  all 
the  other  children,  save  for  his  great  beauty  and  the  silence 
which  lay  over  him  from  that  first  day.  Sometimes  his  face 
was  lighted  as  by  an  inner  joy;  sometimes  it  was  clouded 
as  by  feelings  too  remote  for  speech,  as  he  listened  earnestly 
to  every  word  that  every  speaker  said.  It  was  only  dur- 
ing the  evening  prayer-meetings  that  he  seemed  restless, 
though  he  was  then  no  less  attentive  than  at  all  other 
times.  His  usual  early  bedtime  was  now  disregarded.  As 
here  and  there  in  the  congregation  men  and  women  arose 
to  "  give  testimony  "  of  their  belief  and  religious  experience, 
he  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair,  he  drew  long  breaths,  he 
rolled  and  unrolled  the  ends  of  his  flowing  necktie  in  sup- 
ple, nervous  fingers.  His  mother  wondered  at  this,  but  on 
the  last  night  of  their  stay  she  learned  the  cause  of  it. 

During  those  four  days  the  child  had  heard  many  ser- 
mons from  many  texts,  and  on  that  Sunday  afternoon  a 
grey  old  man  had  preached  in  a  harsh  voice  about  the  lake 
which  burneth  with  fire  and  brimstone,  in  which  liars  and 
other  sinners  shall  have  their  part. 

At  the  prayer-meeting  on  Sunday  night  the  same  grey  old 
man  sat  on  the  speakers'  platform,  rising  from  time  to  time 
to  urge  those  present  to  testify  to  the  Lord.  The  meeting 
was  a  long  one.  Many  became  converted  that  night,  and 
literally  at  the  eleventh  hour  came  forward  to  ask  prayers. 
It  was  nearly  midnight  when  the  old  preacher  arose  for  the 
last  time  and  asked  if  there  was  not  perchance  one  more 
who  wanted  to  say  a  word. 

Then  arose  little  Jesse  Bethel  of  Nashburgh  and  climbed 
upon  his  chair.  His  mother  cast  at  him  one  startled  look, 
but  he  did  not  notice  her;  he  was  oblivious  of  the  scores 
of  surprised  worshippers  who  gazed  at  him;  he  saw  noth- 


THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL  17 

Ing  but  the  grey  old  man  on  the  platform,  and  thought  of 
nothing  but  the  question  which  was  burning  in  his  mind. 

The  preacher  looking  down  saw  in  the  torch-light  the 
golden  head  and  white-robed  figure  of  the  child,  gleaming 
above  the  mass  of  upturned  faces.  He  heard  the  little 
voice  of  penetrating  sweetness,  saying  in  tones  as  steady 
and  unfrightened  as  his  own: 

"  I  have  a  little  brother  who  tells  lies.  I  have  another 
little  brother  who  steals  walnuts. 

"  The  preacher  said  this  morning  that  folks  who  lie  and 
steal  will  go  to  hell.  If  that  is  true,  my  little  brothers  will 
both  go  to  hell.  The  preacher  said  that  hell  was  full  of 
fire.  He  said  it  was  a  place  where  thieves  and  liars  burnt 
for  ever. 

''  The  other  preacher  said  this  morning  that  God  will 
answer  prayers.  I  don't  tell  lies,  and  I  don't  steal,  because 
I  think  it  silly.  It  must  be  horrible  to  burn  for  ever  for 
such  silly  things  as  lies. 

"  One  day  my  little  brother  burnt  his  hand,  and  he 
cried  from  dinner-time  till  supper-time.  It  hurts  him  to 
be  burnt.  This  afternoon,  after  I  heard  the  preacher 
preach,  I  lit  a  match  and  held  my  fingers  in  the  flame.  It 
hurt — it  hurt  a  good  deal ;  but  I  didn't  cry.  I  don't  think 
it  hurts  me  half  so  much  to  be  burnt  as  it  hurts  my  little 
brother. 

"  When  we  are  dead,  if  God  has  really  put  my  brothers 
in  the  fire,  and  if  He  puts  me  up  in  heaven,  I'm  going  to 
ask  Him  if  He  won't  let  me  go  and  burn  awhile  in  place 
of  them.  I'm  going  to  ask  him  to  let  them  go  to  heaven 
for  just  as  long  as  I  can  stand  it  to  be  burnt. 

"  I  want  my  little  brothers  to  see  heaven.  They've  never 
seen  anything  beautiful.  They  never  saw  the  fairies.  And 
even  when  they  look  at  the  moon,  they  just  can't  see  how 
beautiful  it  is.  They  think  the  stars  are  only  stars.  They 
think  the  lovely  sky  is — Oh,  just  nothing  at  all! 

"  I've  always  had  the  best  of  everything.  It  isn't  my 
fault,  because  I  can't  help  it,  and  I  don't  want  the  best  of 
everything;  but  everything  I  have  just  gets  to  be  the  best 
without  their  knowing  it. 

"If  God  should  make  me  stay  in  heaven  all  the  time, 
and  make  them  stay  in  hell,  I  couldn't  endure  it.  I've 


i8  THE   SON    OF  MARY   BETHEL 

tried  to  hire  them  not  to  lie  and  steal,  I  give  them  all  my 
pennies;  but  they  only  take  the  pennies  and  then  they  don't 
stop  doing  wicked  things. 

"  Mr.  Preacher,  you  said  this  afternoon  how  that  God 
told  you  things,  and  spoke  to  you.  God  will  not  speak  to 
me.  I've  asked  him  now  for  days  and  days.  Perhaps  I'm 
just  too  small  for  God  to  bother  talking  to.  But  will  you 
ask  God,  Mr.  Preacher,  if  I  can't  go  to  hell  and  let  my 
little  brothers  go  to  heaven  part  of  the  time?  Please,  Mr. 
Preacher?" 

He  sat  down. 

Not  a  sound  was  heard  for  several  seconds;  then  to  the 
right  and  left  of  him,  behind  and  before  him,  the  people 
began  to  cry,  "  Praise  the  Lord !  "  and  "  Glory  to  God ! " 
and  "  Hallelujah !  "  And  the  old  preacher  offered  up  a 
prayer  that  their  beloved  young  friend  might  be  the  means 
of  leading  the  sinners  to  repentance.  But  though  nursed 
on  the  milk  of  vicarious  atonement,  he  did  not  pray  that 
the  child  might  be  permitted  to  suffer  in  place  of  his 
brothers. 

The  little  Jesse  felt  that  his  trust  in  the  preacher  was 
betrayed.  With  his  eyes  swimming  in  tears,  he  took  his 
mother's  hand  and  left  the  meeting.  As  they  passed  out 
with  the  crowd  he  heard  a  woman  say: 

"  Sister  Bethel,  if  I  didn't  remember  as  well's  yesterday 
the  day  that  child  was  born,  I'd  swear  to  goodness  he  was 
eighteen  years  old  instead  of  eight!  " 

"  Jesse  was  always  forward  for  his  age,"  was  Mary's 
modest  answer. 

Early  the  next  morning  the  child  and  his  mother  went 
back  to  Nashburgh. 


CHAPTER    III 

A  FEW  miles  east  of  Otter  Creek  lies  the  long  range 
of  the  Green  Mountains.  Of  all  the  earthly  things  his 
eyes  had  seen,  these  mountains  were  most  wonderful  to 
Jesse.  Perhaps  some  whisper  of  ancestral  memory  was  in 
their  call  to  him,  for  four  generations  of  his  fathers  had 
seen  the  sun  rise  behind  old  Thunder  Mountain;  four  gen- 
erations of  his  mothers  had  gazed  upon  the  blue  guardian 
of  their  valley,  and  in  the  vague,  imaginative  hours  before 
their  children's  birth  had  questioned  it  in  long  and  word- 
less reverie. 

Three  times  within  his  memory  the  child  had  gone  to 
visit  his  aunt,  who  lived  on  the  north  side  of  this  moun- 
tain; but  she  was  dead  now,  and  there  seemed  to  be  no 
promise  of  his  going  there  again.  He  grew  more  and 
more  to  love  the  face  of  the  old  Thunder  Mountain,  and 
dreamed  waking  dreamsi  of  some  future  day  when  he 
should  climb  its  mighty  shoulder,  far  up  and  over,  and  see 
with  his  own  eyes  the  hidden  things  which  lay  on  the 
farther  side. 

So  when  he  heard  his  mother  say  that  the  new  school- 
teacher was  from  over  the  mountain,  the  tall  girl  in  blue 
whom  he  had  seen  at  the  Grove  camp-meeting  became  a 
thing  of  wonder  in  his  eyes. 

Early  in  the  first  week  of  the  fall  term  Rose  Thomas 
came  to  spend  the  night  at  the  Bethels'  house.  While  his 
mother  was  putting  the  younger  boys  to  bed,  Jesse  followed 
the  teacher  into  the  garden  where  she  had  gone  to  gather 
some  late  flowers,  and  asked  her  to  tell  him  about  over  the 
mountain.  She  gave  a  brief  description  of  the  place  she 
came  from,  Myra,  a  village  where  there  were  four  churches, 
a  town-hall,  a  dozen  stores,  a  graded-school,  and  nearly 
two  thousand  people. 

"  It  must  be  very  beautiful  in  Myra,"  said  the  child,  his 
blue  eyes  expanding  with  imagination. 

19 


20  THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"  It  isn't  nearly  so  beautiful  over  there  as  it  is  here," 
the  teacher  answered. 

"  But  I  thought — Why,  isn't  the  other  side  of  a  moun- 
tain always  more  beautiful  than  this  side?" 

She  looked  at  him,  perplexed  for  a  moment;  then  she 
smiled:  "The  other  side  of  a  mountain  is  this  side,  when 
you  are  there." 

It  was  a  new  idea  to  Jesse,  and  he  turned  it  over  and 
over  in  his  mind.  Of  course  the  teacher  meant  to  tell  him 
truly  about  everything;  but  maybe  she  didn't  know  her- 
self how  wonderful  it  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  moun- 
tain, any  more  than  his  brothers  knew  how  wonderful  the 
moon  was.  And  he  told  himself  that  when  he  was  older 
he  would  go  over  the  mountain  to  Myra  and  see  with  his 
own  eyes  what  made  it  beautiful. 

Rose  Thomas  had  been  teaching  several  years  and  was 
learned  in  the  ways  of  children,  but  Jesse  puzzled  her;  she 
had  never  had  a  pupil  in  any  way  like  him.  His  beauty  was 
a  source  of  wonder;  and  he  was  the  most  loving  being, 
young  or  old,  whom  she  had  ever  known.  But,  most  of 
all,  his  questions  and  strange  sayings  kept  her  thinking. 

One  day  they  sat  alone  together  in  Mary  Bethel's  room. 
Rose  was  reading,  and  the  child  seemed  to  be  doing  noth- 
ing. The  clock  ticked  loudly  on  the  mantel.  After  a  long 
silence,  he  looked  up. 

"  Teacher,  what  is  time  ?  " 

She  hesitated  a  moment.  Had  he  asked  her  to  define 
"parallax,"  she  might  have  done  it — but  time! 

"  Time  is  the  measure  of  duration,"  she  ventured. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  said  Jesse.  "  But  I 
think  there  isn't  any  such  thing  as  time.  When  we  came 
into  this  room  it  was  three  o'clock,  and  then  it  was  now; 
and  now  it's  four  o'clock,  and  it's  still  now.  I  think  time 
isn't  real;  it's  like  a  shadow  which  keeps  moving  along, 
and  isn't  really  anything,  anyway.  But  I  wish  I  knew 
what  it's  the  shadow  of.  You  don't  know,  do  you, 
Teacher  ?  " 

She  confessed  that  she  did  not. 

Another  day,  when  they  were  walking  together,  he  said 
to  her: 

"  Teacher,  what  is  the  difference  between  you  and  me?  " 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL  21 

"  Why — I  am  a  young  woman,  and  you  are  a  little  boy." 

"  I  think  that's  not  much  difference,"  Jesse  replied. 
"  You  just  believe  you're  yourself,  and  I  believe  I'm  my- 
self." Then,  after  a  pause,  he  added:  "  I  think  it  wouldn't 
be  strange  if  I  should  wake  up  to-morrow  morning  and 
find  that  I  was  you.  I  wouldn't  be  scared  a  bit,  would 
you?" 

"  You  mustn't  think  such  things,"  said  his  instructress. 

"Why  not?"  asked  Jesse. 

And  she  was  silent. 

So  the  autumn  passed,  and  late  in  October  Rose  Thomas 
went  back  over  the  mountain  to  Myra;  but  the  memory 
of  Jesse  Bethel  went  with  her,  and  she  wrote  his  mother 
a  letter  every  few  months  with  messages  for  the  child. 

The  summer  after  Jesse  was  nine  years  old  he  made  an 
enemy.  It  was  the  black-haired  man,  Thomas  Taylpr, 
whose  two  boys  had  been  thrashed  by  Jesse's  cousins  at  the 
camp-meeting  the  year  before.  The  trouble  came  about 
in  this  way: 

Many  of  the  farmers  in  that  section,  who  lived  along 
the  line  of  the  railroad,  were  able  to  make  a  small  profit 
by  selling  their  milk  to  a  Boston  company  which  sent  a 
car  through  on  the  mail-train  every  morning  to  collect  it. 
Four  of  the  Nashburgh  farmers,  among  them  Thomas  Tay- 
lor, drove  to  the  railway-station  daily  with  their  milk.  It 
would  have  been  a  great  saving  of  time  and  labour  had  one 
man  carted  the  milk  belonging  to  all  four;  but  there  was  no 
one  man  in  whom  the  other  three  had  confidence,  and  so 
all  four  went  daily  to  the  station. 

Early  in  the  summer  an  agent  from  the  Milk  Company 
came  up  the  line,  stopping  here  and  there  at  the  larger 
towns  to  confer  with  the  farmers  who  gathered  by  appoint- 
ment to  meet  him.  On  the  day  of  the  conference  in  the 
village  six  miles  south  of  Nashburgh,  Jesse  had  gone  down 
there  with  his  father  to  buy  a  barrel  of  flour.  The  elder 
Bethel,  who  found  his  carpentry  more  profitable  than  keep- 
ing many  cows,  had  no  call  to  the  milk  meeting;  but  hav- 
ing some  business  with  a  man  from  the  next  town  who  was 
certain  to  be  there,  he  went  up  to  the  hall,  and  Jesse  went 
along  with  him. 


22  THE   SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

The  meeting  was  in  full  swing.  The  man  from  Boston 
was  explaining  to  the  rather  sullen  crowd  of  men  the  rea- 
sons— competition,  railway  extortion,  ice-famine,  etc. — 
why  he  was  compelled  to  offer  them  a  few  cents  less  than 
formerly  on  each  can  of  milk.  There  was  much  loud  but 
futile  argument;  for  every  farmer  knew,  and  knew  the 
milk  man  knew,  that  if  he  refused  to  sell  his  product  to 
the  company,  he  would  be  obliged  to  make  it  into  butter; 
and  the  women  of  those  towns  were  tired  of  making  but- 
ter. So  the  new  rate  was  reluctantly  accepted. 

The  question  of  money  being  settled,  the  man  from 
Boston  told  them  he  had  something  yet  to  say.  There  was 
a  pure  food  agitation  going  on  in  Massachusetts,  and  the 
week  before  a  duly  authorized  committee  had  visited  the 
company  he  represented,  and  had  found  some  cans  of  milk 
below  the  standard.  In  other  words,  their  company  had 
got  into  trouble  for  selling  watered  milk.  The  cans  con- 
demned by  this  committee  had  been  traced  to  the  Nash- 
burgh  station,  and  the  men  from  Nashburgh  were  requested 
to  stand  up.  The  agent  had  their  names  on  a  slip  of 
paper,  and  he  slowly  called  them  off. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said  politely,  "  can  any  of  you  throw 
light  upon  this  question  ?  " 

Apparently  no  one  could;  but  involuntarily  the  eyes  of 
the  other  three  turned  sideways  toward  Thomas  Taylor, 
who  got  red  in  the  face.  The  man  from  Boston  was  ex- 
perienced in  these  cases,  and  from  this  wordless  testimony 
he  knew  the  guilty  one.  He  was  a  sentimentalist,  having 
found  that  sentiment  was  often  useful  in  his  business,  and 
he  now  dilated  on  the  culpability  of  men  who  sold  impure 
milk  for  poor  little  city  children  to  drink.  Then  he  said: 

"  Will  the  dark  man  on  the  right  kindly  tell  "me  his 
name  ?  " 

'  Thomas  Taylor,"  came  the  answer,  in  rather  a  low 
vo  ce. 

'  Thomas  Taylor,  have  you  ever  watered  your  milk  ?  " 

'I  have  not." 

'  Will  you  swear  to  me  that  you  have  never  watered 
your  milk?" 

Now  Thomas  Taylor  had  lately  been  entertaining  the 
minister  at  his  house,  and  he  hesitated.  To  put  pure  water 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL  23 

from  his  own  good  well  into  a  can  of  milk  was  one  thing, 
but  to  swear  falsely  was  quite  another  thing;  so  he  stam- 
mered, still  red  in  the  face: 

"  Well,  I  dunno.     I  never  put  in  more'n  a  cupful." 

Then,  from  the  back  seat,  came  the  penetrating  childish 
voice  of  Jesse  Bethel: 

"  '  Whosoever  shall  give  to  drink  unto  one  of  these  little 
ones  a  cup  of  cold  water ' " 

The  end  of  this  quotation  was  drowned  in  a  general 
howl  of  laughter.  When  the  noise  had  subsided  a  little, 
and  had  given  place  to  nudges  and  neighbourly  winks  and 
chuckles,  the  man  from  Boston  said  slowly  and  deliberately: 

"  The  milk  of  Thomas  Taylor  will  no  longer  be  accepted 
by  the  company." 

The  meeting  was  then  adjourned. 

Shame-faced  at  the  derision  of  his  neighbours,  and  sullen 
over  the  loss  of  his  profit  on  milk,  Taylor  got  into  his 
buggy  and  started  for  home.  But  he  never  heard  the  last 
of  it.  In  rural  Vermont,  a  joke  is  a  joke,  and  a  good  one 
is  an  inheritance  to  be  handed  down  from  generation  to 
generation. 

Taylor  came  to  writhe  at  the  very  mention  of  a  cup  of 
cold  water,  for  he  was  invited  to  partake  of  one  upon  any 
and  every  occasion.  And  he  nursed  a  grudge  against 
Jesse  Bethel. 


CHAPTER   IV 

IT  was  in  September  of  the  same  year  that  Jesse  first 
met  Mary  Magnus,  Mary  the  Great,  as  she  came  to  be 
called  a  long  time  afterward.  But  she  was  only  a  pretty 
little  girl  of  eight  years  when  she  came  to  Nashburgh,  on 
a  visit  to  the  Smith  children  who  were  her  second  cousins. 
Though  Mary  was  of  the  same  age  as  Susie  Smith,  she  was 
half  a  head  taller — almost  as  tall  as  the  nine-year-old  Jesse, 
and  plump  as  a  rosebud.  She  sat  beside  Susie  in  the  school- 
house  every  day  for  a  week,  and  her  pretty  clothes  set  the 
fashion  in  that  neighbourhood  of  having  a  double  row  of 
quilling  around  the  bottom  of  small  skirts,  and  lace  around 
the  pocket-handkerchief.  By  the  innate  right  of  beauty 
she  was  already  a  personage,  and  carried  her  little  brown 
head  high  with  consciousness  of  power.  The  boys  had  been 
her  willing  slaves  since  a  time  before  she  could  remember. 
She  liked  boys,  all  boys  more  or  less,  but  especially  the 
handsome  ones ;  and  no  boy  had  ever  resisted  her  small,  shy, 
daring  yet  appealing  ways. 

On  the  morning  when  she  first  came  to  the  district 
schoolhouse,  Jesse  Bethel  was  half  an  hour  late.  The  im- 
perious little  Mary,  being  mentally  active  and  desirous  to 
excel  in  everything,  was  copying  a  hard  example  in  long 
division  from  Susie's  arithmetic  when  she  heard  a  step  in 
the  entry.  Looking  up,  she  saw  in  the  frame  of  the  door- 
way the  most  beautiful  picture  in  all  the  world,  as  she 
told  herself  in  after  years  when  she  had  seen  many  of  the 
world's  beautiful  pictures. 

Slender  and  lithe  and  alive  in  every  nerve,  the  boy 
seemed  to  be  surrounded  by  an  aura  of  vibrant  light,  as 
he  stood  there  in  the  doorway  with  the  rays  of  the  morn- 
ing sun  behind  him.  His  hair,  worn  rather  long  and  wav- 
ing round  his  head  in  golden  fullness,  retained  the  sun- 
beams in  its  meshes  even  after  he  had  passed  into  the 
shadows  of  the  schoolroom. 

24 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL  25 

The  little  sybarite  from  Vergennes  suddenly  lost  interest 
in  long  division  and  turned  her  attention  to  the  strange 
boy,  who,  after  the  first  look  of  surprise  he  gave  her,  passed 
quietly  to  his  seat  on  the  other  side  of  the  room.  Out  of 
the  corners  of  her  amber  eyes  she  watched  him;  but  he 
was  the  only  child  in  the  school  who  was  not  furtively 
watching  her,  and  she  wondered  why.  From  that  hour  all 
other  boys  became  as  shadows  to  little  Mary  Magnus,  only 
to  emerge  into  the  sunlight  of  her  notice  after  she  had 
made  this  new  boy  notice  her. 

During  the  noon  recess  those  children  who  brought  their 
luncheon  usually  passed  the  hour  in  a  neighbouring  pas- 
ture; the  boys  played  ball  in  the  centre  of  the  field,  and 
the  girls  played  house  on  the  rocks  under  the  trees.  That 
noontime  Mary  Magnus,  by  an  artful  question  now  and 
then  to  one  girl  and  another,  learned  the  name  of  the 
beautiful  boy  and  such  details  of  his  life  as  had  impressed 
themselves  upon  the  rather  unobserving  young  daughters 
of  Nashburgh.  She  looked  in  vain  for  opportunity  to  speak 
to  Jesse. 

But  on  the  following  day  it  rained,  and  during  the  noon 
recess  the  children  played  in  the  schoolhouse.  The  teacher 
this  term,  a  rather  oldish  woman  with  greying  hair,  boarded 
in  the  next  house  and  went  home  to  dinner  in  the  middle 
of  the  day;  so  the  young  ones  had  the  place  to  themselves. 
They  ate  their  lunches  from  little  pails,  sitting  on  the 
front  seats  and  on  the  long  recitation  bench;  and  during 
this  pleasant  rite  the  visitor  from  Vergennes  cleverly  placed 
herself  beside  the  object  of  her  interest,  but  for  a  time 
she  seemed  to  be  unconscious  of  his  existence.  When  she 
had  finished  her  sandwiches  and  pie,  she  took  out  of  the 
dinner-pail  a  big  red  apple,  and  with  a  subtle  smile  turned 
to  her  young  neighbour. 

"Wouldn't  you  like  one  of  my  nice  apples — Jesse?" 

Now  anything  resembling  generosity  was  the  straight 
road  to  Jesse  Bethel's  heart,  and  he  thanked  the  pretty 
little  girl  beside  him  with  a  beaming  expansion  of  his  whole 
person  quite  indescribable.  He  raised  the  apple  to  his  lips 
— then  his  arm  dropped.  He  blushed.  He  looked  at 
Mary.  Mary  looked  at  him.  Finally  he  whispered,  wist- 
fully: 


26  THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

"Would  you  care  if  I  shouldn't  eat  the  apple?  Would 
you  care  if  I  should  give  it  to  Marty  White?  He  hasn't 
anything  in  his  dinner-pail  to-day  but  old  dry  bread!  " 

The  eyes  of  the  emotional  girl  filled  with  tears.  "  Oh, 
how  good  you  are!"  she  said.  "Yes,  let's  give  him  the 
apple,  from  both  of  us,  and  (she  reached  into  the  dinner- 
pail)  here's  a  doughnut,  too."  Her  little  red  mouth  was 
tremulous. 

"  I'll  give  them  to  him  in  the  entry,"  Jesse  whispered, 
"  then  the  other  children  won't  laugh  and  make  him 
ashamed."  He  started  to  rise. 

"  Come  back  here  afterward,"  she  said,  under  her  breath. 

And  Jesse  came  back.  They  were  friends  from  that 
hour.  The  hunger  of  little  Marty  White  was  a  bond  for 
them  stronger  than  their  beauty.  Between  the  emotion  of 
Mary  and  the  love  of  Jesse  the  difference  was  one  of  kind 
and  not  of  mere  degree;  but  this  she  learned  long  after- 
ward. 

When  he  was  again  beside  her,  Mary  said  playfully: 
"  Maybe  you  didn't  really  want  the  apple,  after  all  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  I  did!  But  when  I  really  want  anything 
very  much  myself,  I  like  to  give  it  to  somebody  else." 

"  I  never  thought  of  that,"  Mary  admitted.  And  slowly 
into  her  undeveloped  mind  came  a  new  feeling,  the  ad- 
miration of  goodness,  which  is  deeper  and  more  lasting 
than  the  admiration  of  beauty,  even  in  such  vessels  of  emo- 
tion as  Mary  Magnus. 

When  they  were  through  with  their  lunch  the  cry  arose: 
"What  shall  we  play?  "  One  suggested  this,  another  that; 
but  Susie  Smith  said: 

"  Let's  all  ask  Jesse  to  tell  us  fairy  stories." 

"Oh,  do,  Jesse!  Jesse,  do!"  they  all  exclaimed  in 
chorus.  And  Jesse  did. 

He  had  a  prodigious  memory,  and  every  story  in  "  The 
Book  of  Wonder  "  was  stamped  upon  his  brain  from  alpha 
to  omega.  He  did  not  merely  recite  them  in  the  words  of 
the  author,  but  gave  their  substance  in  his  own  delightful 
fashion,  with  illuminating  touches  here  and  there;  for  had 
he  not  seen  fairies?  Spellbound  the  children  sat,  breath- 
ing the  air  of  undiscovered  regions,  seeing  the  marvels  of 
the  invisible.  .  .  .  Then  the  sudden  clang  of  the  five- 


THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL  27 

minutes-bell  in  the  entry  told  them  the  teacher  had  come 
back.  As  they  all  arose,  Mary  put  her  little  hand  on  Jesse's 
arm. 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  slowly  and  deliberately,  and  without 
any  of  her  usual  coquetry,  "  I  think,  Jesse,  that  you  are 
the  most  wonderful  person  I  have  ever  seen." 

"  I  am  glad  you  enjoyed  the  stories,"  he  answered  sim- 
ply. "  I  know  many  more.  My  mother  reads  them  to  me 
almost  every  night  after  I've  gone  to  bed,  those  and  Bible 
stories.  But  I  like  the  fairy  stories  best,  because  the  peo- 
ple in  the  Bible  are  always  wrangling  about  something." 

This  unique  view  of  the  religious  classic  was  lost  on 
Mary;  but  the  grey-haired  teacher  heard  it,  and  gently 
reproved  Jesse  for  irreverence. 

On  Friday — it  was  the  day  before  Mary  was  to  go  back 
to  her  home  in  Vergennes — the  children  were  all  playing 
tag  together  in  the  pasture  at  noontime,  when  a  strange 
thing  happened.  Susie  Smith,  "  the  tag,"  was  chasing 
Marty  White.  The  ragged  little  fellow,  in  trying  to  elude 
her,  stubbed  his  toe  and  fell  sprawling.  Now  they  had  a 
rule  among  them  against  "  tagging "  anybody  who  fell 
down,  so  Susie  turned  to  chase  her  brother  who  was  just 
behind.  But  suddenly  she  stood  still,  and  all  the  other 
children  turned,  for  the  scream  that  issued  from  the  lips 
of  Marty  was  a  scream  of  terror  and  not  of  ordinary 
crying. 

'The  spotted  adder!  Oh,  the  spotted  adder!"  he 
shrieked,  as  his  frightened  playmates  gathered  round.  "  It 
bit  me,  it  bit  me!  .  .  .  see,  here  on  my  arm  *  .  . 
and  then  it  crawled  into  that  hole  in  the  rock.  .  .  .  Oh, 
I  shall  die,  I  shall  die!  My  mother  says  it's  poison!  Oh, 
Mother,  Mother!  I  shall  die!" 

The  children  were  all  crying  excitedly — all  save  Jesse 
Bethel.  He  did  not  cry.  He  did  not  even  speak.  He  sat 
down  on  the  ground  beside  Marty,  and  taking  the  poor 
bitten  arm  in  his  firm  hands  raised  it  to  his  mouth.  Then 
with  all  the  force  of  his  young  body  he  sucked  the  wound 
of  the  spotted  adder,  wiping  his  lips  from  time  to  time  on 
his  handkerchief.  After  some  moments  he  laid  the  arm 
down  gently,  and  stood  up. 

"  I  think  you  will  not  die,"  he  said. 


28  THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

News  travels  quickly  near  a  schoolhouse.  In  ten  minutes 
the  nearest  neighbour  had  harnessed  his  horse  and  started 
for  the  doctor,  and  in  fifteen  minutes  Marty's  slatternly 
mother  came  and  led  him  home.  Then  the  teacher  rang 
the  first  bell,  and  the  children  filed  into  the  schoolhouse. 
Before  ringing  the  last  bell,  she  said  to  Jesse,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  others: 

"  Do  you  want  to  be  excused  for  the  day?  " 

"No,  ma'am." 

"  Don't  you  think  you  ought  to  tell  your  mother  what 
you  have  done?  " 

"  No,  ma'am." 

"What  made  you  think  of  sucking  that  snake-bite?" 

"  I  heard  my  mother  and  Mrs.  Smith  talking  about  it  one 
day." 

But  the  teacher  sent  for  Jesse's  father,  who  came  and 
took  him  home.  In  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  the  boy 
had  forgotten  that  Mary  Magnus  was  going  away  the 
next  morning,  and  he  did  not  say  good-bye  to  her. 

When  they  were  on  the  road  home,  Jesse's  father  turned 
to  him  impatiently: 

"  How  could  you  risk  your  life  like  that  ?  " 

Jesse's  eyes  grew  bright  with  emotion. 

"Isn't  his  life  as  good  as  mine?" 

"There  may  well  be  two  answers  to  that  question,"  said 
the  father.  "  Your  life  belongs  to  me  and  your  mother." 

"  My  life  belongs  to  Marty  White — just  as  much  as  it 
does  to  you,  or  to  my  mother,"  was  Jesse's  astonishing 
answer. 

Back  in  the  schoolhouse  little  Mary  Magnus  wept  quietly 
behind  her  lace-edged  handkerchief,  and  would  not  be  com- 
forted; for  the  beautiful  boy  had  gone  away  without  even 
looking  at  her. 


CHAPTER   V 

EVERY  year  in  October  the  railway  company  ran  an  ex- 
cursion to  Burlington,  the  largest  city  in  the  State  and  the 
seat  of  a  small  university.  To  spend  the  day  in  Burling- 
ton was,  to  a  dweller  in  Nashburgh,  an  event  of  no  less 
interest  than  is  the  spending  of  a  month  in  Paris  to  a 
dweller  in  New  York.  Before  these  excursions  pious  par- 
ents spoke  seriously  to  their  sons  and  daughters  of  the 
perils  and  temptations  of  the  city.  Burlington  is  really 
but  an  overgrown  village  of  some  twenty  thousand  inhabi- 
tants, lying  drowsily  upon  the  margin  of  Lake  Champlain. 
For  all  the  warnings  of  anxious  fathers  and  mothers,  the 
greatest  peril  to  the  young  excursionist  was  the  possibility 
of  falling  into  the  lake,  and  the  chief  temptation  that  of 
losing  the  last  train  home. 

When  Jesse  was  twelve  years  old  his  father  and  mother 
decided,  after  long  deliberation,  that  they  could  afford  to 
go  to  Burlington  on  the  excursion  and  take  the  three  boys, 
Jesse,  Fred  and  Henry.  For  the  sake  of  economy  they 
took  their  dinner  in  a  basket,  fearing  the  extortions  of  eat- 
ing-house proprietors;  and  as  a  wise  precaution  against 
pickpockets  who  might  possibly  rob  the  father,  the  mother 
carried  their  return-tickets  tied  up  in  a  handkerchief 
secreted  in  her  bosom.  At  any  rate,  if  they  should  lose  their 
money,  they  could  get  home  in  safety. 

Jesse,  who  was  already  well  advanced  in  elementary  alge- 
bra and  knew  more  about  geography  than  did  his  teacher, 
reminded  his  father  that  Burlington  was  only  one  two-hun- 
dredth part  as  large  as  London,  and  that  the  distance  from 
Nashburgh  to  Burlington  was  only  about  one  six-hundredth 
part  of  the  circumference  of  the  earth.  Though  pleased 
at  the  prospect  of  going  on  the  excursion,  he  was  not 
overwhelmed  by  the  vastness  of  the  enterprise.  Was  he 
not  going  to  New  York  some  day?  He  had  learned  much 
since  the  time,  four  years  before,  when  "  over  the  moun- 
tain to  Myra"  had  seemed  a  long  journey.  Nevertheless, 
he  intended  some  time  to  go  to  Myra, 

29 


30  THE   SON    OF  MARY   BETHEL 

The  day  in  Burlington  proved  far  more  interesting  than 
he  had  hoped.  The  view  of  Lake  Champlain  surprised  him 
with  its  beauty,  and  his  visit  to  the  university  and  hospital 
suggested  many  questions  which  their  most  learned  pro- 
fessors would  not  have  attempted  to  answer. 

It  was  a  large  crowd  which  gathered  at  the  railway- 
station  for  the  return  train  at  six  o'clock.  From  half  the 
length  of  the  State  they  had  come;  for  the  round-trip  fare 
was  low,  and  the  year  had  been  a  profitable  one  for  farm- 
ers. Several  families  from  Nashburgh  were  among  the 
excursionists;  and  when  the  father  and  mother  of  Jesse  dis- 
covered, on  the  way  back  to  the  station,  that  he  was  not 
with  the  two  younger  boys,  they  assumed  that  he  was 
just  behind,  with  the  Smith  children  and  the  school-teacher. 
Not  until  they  looked  for  him  again  at  the  station,  and 
had  questioned  the  teacher,  were  they  seriously  alarmed. 
They  gazed  at  each  other  with  wide  eyes:  Jesse  was 
lost. 

Then  arose  a  babel  among  their  friends  and  neighbours. 
One  had  seen  the  boy  last  an  hour  ago,  one  had  seen  him 
two  hours  ago,  the  teacher  had  seen  him  half  an  hour  ago, 
talking  to  a  tall  man  in  a  big  building.  Which  building? 
She  could  not  say,  there  had  been  so  many  buildings. 

As  they  were  discussing  the  matter,  they  heard  the 
whistle  of  the  train.  Mary  Bethel  was  cool  and  quiet, 
though  her  face  was  pale  as  she  asked  her  neighbour,  Mrs. 
Smith,  to  take  the  two  younger  boys  home  with  her  and 
keep  them  for  the  night.  She  and  her  husband  would  re- 
main in  Burlington  till  they  should  find  the  lost  child. 

The  train  pulled  out  of  the  station  with  all  the  chatter- 
ing crowd  on  board,  and  the  father  and  mother  of  Jesse 
stood  for  a  minute  or  two  staring  after  it.  Then  they 
found  the  station-master,  told  him  their  trouble,  and  asked 
him  what  to  do.  He  telephoned  for  them  to  various  of- 
fices, and  pointed  out  the  way  to  the  police-station.  But 
in  none  of  these  places  was  there  knowledge  of  a  lost  child. 

Worn  and  half  discouraged,  they  went  at  last  to  a  hotel, 
there  to  sit  patiently  on  a  bench  outside  the  telephone  of- 
fice, waiting  for  the  news  which  seemed  so  long  in  coming. 

About  eight  o'clock  the  telephone  clerk,  a  pale  young 
man  with  eye-glasses,  came  out  to  them. 


THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL  31 

"  Cheer  up,"  he  said ;  "  your  boy  is  found,  safe  and 
well." 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  Mary  Bethel  broke  down  and 
cried. 

"  He's  up  at  the  hospital,"  the  clerk  added,  "  and  the 
Superintendent  says  for  you  to  go  up  there  and  get  him. 
You'd  better  take  a  hack;  it's  pretty  far  to  walk." 

At  that  hour  the  missing  boy  was  holding  a  sort  of  re- 
ception in  the  operating-room  at  the  medical  college,  sur- 
rounded by  several  of  the  doctors  and  professors  of  the 
university.  He  was  seated  in  the  midst  of  them  upon  the 
table,  questioning  them  and  answering  their  questions. 

Jesse  did  not  see  his  parents  when  they  came  to  the  door; 
and  they  stood  there  for  some  minutes,  listening  in  sur- 
prise to  the  dialogue  between  their  incomprehensible  first- 
born and  the  group  of  bearded  men. 

"  I'm  glad  I  came  up  here  to-day,"  the  boy  was  saying, 
"  because  I  never  realised  before  how  wonderful  we  are  in- 
side of  us.  I  think  that  skeleton  you  showed  me  was  more 
beautiful  than  a  rose-bush  full  of  blossoms.  Do  you  know 
why  a  skull  laughs?" 

"  No.     Tell  us,  Jesse." 

"  It's  laughing  at  all  the  people  who  are  afraid  to  die.  I 
think  I'll  never  be  afraid  of  anything  again,  when  a  man 
who  has  had  his  flesh  all  eaten  off  by  worms  can  take  it  as 
a  joke." 

"  How  did  you  like  the  man  you  saw  in  the  dissecting- 
room,  the  one  with  his  muscles  all  exposed  ?  "  a  grey  old 
doctor  asked.  "  That  fellow  was  a  truckman,  Jesse,  and 
only  a  little  while  ago  he  could  shoulder  a  trunk  that 
weighed  three  hundred  pounds,  and  carry  it  up  four  flights 
of  stairs — with  those  same  muscles." 

"  Oh,  I  think  he  didn't  carry  trunks  with  muscles!  " 
replied  Jesse.  "  It  was  the  man's  soul  which  could  lift 
three  hundred  pounds." 

"  But  you  have  a  soul,  Jesse.  Can  you  lift  trunks  with 
it?" 

"  When  I  get  big  I'm  going  to  lift  the  mortgage  off  our 
farm  with  it,  and  that  weighs  more  than  half  a  hundred 
trunks." 


32  THE   SON   OF  MARY   BETHEL 

They  all  began  to  laugh,  but  Jesse  stopped  them  with  his 
lifted  hand. 

"You  think  I've  made  a  pun,  and  so  you  laugh  at  it; 
but  puns  are  really  far  more  serious  than  sermons." 

"  Why,  how  is  that  ?  "  they  asked. 

"  I'll  tell  you,"  answered  the  boy;  "  I  found  it  out  my- 
self only  last  year.  When  I  first  learned  that  one  word 
could  mean  two  or  three  things,  I  puzzled  over  it.  It  was 
as  if  a  man  had  two  or  three  souls.  That  would  be  inter- 
esting, but  not  the  least  bit  funny;  and  I  couldn't  see  even 
then  why  people  laughed  at  puns.  But  one  day  I  heard 
my  mother  reading  in  the  Bible,  and  she  read  something 
about,  '  In  the  beginning  was  the  Word  .  .  .  and 
the  Word  was  God.'  And  then  I  saw  it." 

"  I  know  you  will  pardon  our  stupidity,"  said  one  of  the 
professors,  with  mock  gravity ;  "  but  really,  Jesse,  we  don't 
see  this  great  truth  even  yet." 

"  Why,  it's  so  plain,"  the  boy  responded.  "  In  the  be- 
ginning the  Word  was  God, — that  is,  the  great  big  Word 
which  we  don't  know, — and  then  it  divided  itself  into  all 
the  little  words  we  do  know,  just  as  God  must  have  divided 
himself  in  making  us.  Some  words  are  simple,  and  mean 
only  one  thing;  those  are  like  the  simple  people  who  have 
only  one  way  of  thinking,  like  my  father.  Other  words 
are  not  so  simple  and  have  many  meanings;  those  are  like 
the  people  who  lead  double  lives  and  live  in  two  worlds.  I 
don't  mean  deceitful  people  only,  though  they  are  double, 
also;  I  mean  those  who  seem  simple  to  the  simple  ones,  but 
who  really  live  in  another  world  as  well  as  this  one — 
people  like  my  mother  and  me,  who  have  a  double  mean- 
ing." 

They  sat  and  stared  at  him. 

Finally  a  foreign-looking  man,  the  Professor  of  Philoso- 
phy, rose  slowly  from  his  chair  and  came  over  to  the  boy, 
where  he  sat  upon  the  operating-table. 

"  My  young  friend,"  he  said,  "  will  you  let  me  give  you 
a  piece  of  advice?" 

"  Of  course,"  replied  Jesse,  "  and  thank  you." 

The  man  smiled.  "  Well,"  said  he,  "  I  hope  you  will 
remember  what  I  say.  You  are  evidently  a  born  mystic. 
Now  if,  when  you  are  older,  you  should  come  to  think  you 


THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL  33 

have  a  message  for  your  fellow  men,  put  it  in  simple 
language.  Now  I  know  perfectly  the  meaning  you  intended 
to  convey  by  your  extraordinary  dissertation  on  puns,  or 
metaphors;  but  I'll  wager  a  month's  salary,  against  one  of 
your  indigestible  Yankee  doughnuts,  that  not  one  of  my 
learned  associates  here  " — waving  his  hand  at  the  crowd  of 
men — "  not  one  of  these  doctors  or  professors  can  tell  what 
you  mean,  my  dear  young  Jesse.  So  take  the  advice  of  an 
old  man  who  is  experienced  in  teaching:  If  you  want  to 
instruct  others,  be  simple." 

"  Thank  you,  again,"  the  boy  answered.  "  I'll  remem- 
ber all  my  life  what  you  have  said." 

Just  then  one  of  the  men  caught  sight  of  the  father  and 
mother  standing  in  the  doorway,  and  with  a  nod  invited 
them  to  enter.  As  they  came  forward  Jesse  also  saw 
them,  and  slipping  off  the  table,  he  stood  waiting. 

"Jesse,  my  child!"  said  the  mother.  "How  could 
you  treat  us  in  this  way?  How  could  you  separate  your- 
self from  us?  We  have  been  looking  for  you  more  than 
two  hours,  half  crazy  with  anxiety." 

"  You  should  have  gone  home,"  replied  Jesse,  "  and  left 
my  ticket  with  the  station-master.  You  must  know  by  this 
time  that  I  have  need  of  going  to  many  places  where  you 
cannot  follow,  and  need  of  doing  many  things  which  must 
be  strange  to  you." 

Mary  made  no  answer;  but  she  pondered  long  on  the 
boy's  words,  and  in  after  years  they  came  back  to  her  with 
new  and  overwhelming  meaning. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  summer  after  Jesse  was  fourteen  he  came  to  re- 
alise that  he  had  learned  everything  the  teachers  in  their 
simple  district  school  could  give  him.  He  had  long  had  a 
secret  wish  to  prepare  for  the  State  university;  but  his 
parents  were  too  poor,  even  to  send  him  to  the  small  high 
school  in  the  neighbouring  village.  Mary  Bethel,  always 
ambitious  for  her  son,  wanted  him  to  apply  for  a  position 
as  teacher  in  some  district  school;  but  the  boy  would  not. 
When  pressed  to  give  a  reason,  he  said  simply: 

"  I  will  not  teach  in  any  of  these  schools,  because  I  would 
not  be  allowed  to  teach  the  children  truth." 

"  Why,  Jesse !  "  exclaimed  his  mother,  in  surprise.  "  I 
don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  I  will  not  teach  in  schools,"  he  went  on,  "  because  I 
would  have  to  teach  old  doctrines  which  I  know  to  be 
untrue;  would  have  to  give  false  reasons  for  a  hundred 
things,  and  keep  the  one  true  reason  to  myself.  When  I 
first  realised  I  couldn't  have  an  education  like  that  of 
those  men  I  met  in  Burlington,  my  heart  was  heavy.  But 
now  I  believe  I  know  a  better  way  to  knowledge  than  their 
way.  I'll  buy  what  books  I  can  afford,  and  be  my  own 
teacher.  I  think,  no  matter  what  school  I  should  go  to, 
I  would  find  that  the  teachers  with  their  greater  education 
were  really  like  the  teachers  in  our  little  school  at  Nash- 
burgh.  They  would  take  me  just  so  far,  and  then  I  would 
have  to  go  the  rest  of  the  way  myself.  They  would  teach 
me  a  great  many  facts  and  also  a  great  many  falsehoods, 
and  I  should  have  to  sift  their  teaching  all  the  time.  So, 
Mother,  I've  decided  to  find  my  own  path  to  knowledge. 
It  will  be  a  new  path,  all  my  own;  and  not  until  I  have 
found  it  and  have  walked  the  whole  way  myself,  will  I 
try  to  show  the  way  to  others.  But  when  I  find  it, 
Mother,  when  I  really  find  it,  I'll  make  the  whole  world 
follow  me!  " 

His  face  was  lighted  by  an  inner  glory,  a  dream,  a  des- 
tiny too  high  and  far  away  to  share  with  anyone  as  yet. 

34 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL  35 

His  mother  kissed  him,  with  a  voiceless  prayer  that  he 
might  be  protected  from  all  dangers. 

The  next  day  he  asked  his  father,  who  was  now  an  old 
man  weary  with  much  labour,  to  teach  him  his  own  trade 
of  carpentry  and  building.  That  spring  the  men  of  Nash- 
burgh  had  voted  to  erect  a  new  schoolhouse,  the  old  one 
being  too  dilapidated  for  profitable  repair.  The  father  of 
Jesse  was  the  only  carpenter  and  builder  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, so  he  was  given  the  contract  for  the  new  school- 
house;  and  it  was  on  this  work  that  the  boy  learned  his 
trade. 

From  early  morning  until  dark  they  worked,  the  father 
and  the  son,  although  the  old  man  had  to  take  long  resting 
spells  because  his  strength  was  failing. 

"  This  is  my  last  big  job,  Jesse,"  he  said  one  evening,  as 
they  were  slowly  walking  home  together.  "  Many's  the 
house  I've  built  in  my  day,  and  many's  the  house  I've  re- 
paired; but  this  new  schoolhouse  is  my  last  one.  I'll  prob- 
ably live  on  awhile  yet,  maybe  several  years;  but  I'm  not 
the  man  I  was  even  this  time  last  year.  I'm  glad  you 
wanted  to  learn  my  trade,  because  it's  going  to  be  better 
for  you  than  teaching  school  would  have  been.  There's 
money  in  it,  Jesse.  I'll  make  enough  on  this  job  of  the 
schoolhouse  to  settle  the  old  Johnson  note  which  has  been 
hanging  over  us  for  three  years.  The  reason  I've  been  so 
poor  all  my  life,  and  had  to  mortgage  the  farm,  was  be- 
cause there  isn't  work  enough  in  a  little  place  like  this  to 
keep  a  carpenter  working  more  than  a  month  or  two  in  the 
year,  on  an  average,  with  now  and  then  a  little  fiddling 
job  of  repairing  which  doesn't  keep  us  all  in  shoe-leather. 
When  I'm  dead,  boy,  instead  of  struggling  along  here, 
trying  to  keep  up  the  interest  on  the  mortgage,  you'd  better 
take  your  mother  and  the  boys  somewhere  else — I  don't 
know  where,  but  somewhere  where  there's  building  going 
on.  If  I  can  live  a  few  years  more,  till  you're  a  little  older, 
Jesse,  I  won't  worry  about  you  all  on  my  death-bed. 
You're  taking  to  the  trade  like  a  duck  to  water.  I 
suppose  you'd  have  beaten  me  at  anything  you  undertook, 
you're  such  a  smart  one.  But  wrhat  I  started  to  say  was 
this:  When  I'm  dead,  let  the  old  farm  go.  It's  mort- 
gaged now  to  Taylor  for  half  it's  worth,  and  I  had  to  bor- 


36  THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

row  another  fifty  from  him  last  November;  though  I 
haven't  dared  to  tell  your  mother,  she  worries  so.  "  But 
sell  the  farm,  Jesse,  sell  it,  and  go  to  some  place  where 
you  can  work  at  your  trade." 

"  I  will,  Father,"  the  boy  promised.  "  But  don't  say  any- 
thing to  Mother  about  dying.  It  would  make  her  feel  bad." 

"  All  right,  I  won't.  And  I'm  going  to  depend  on  you 
to  look  after  her  till  the  boys  get  big  enough  to  help.  Then 
you  let  them  do  it  for  awhile.  Don't  let  'em  be  lazy  and 
shove  off  all  the  burdens  on  your  shoulders.  I  know  'em; 
they're  just  like  your  uncle  Frank.  But  you're  different, 
Jesse;  and  I'm  prouder  of  you  every  day."  And  the  un- 
demonstrative old  man  put  his  arm  around  Jesse's  shoul- 
ders. It  was  the  first  time  he  had  offered  him  a  caress 
since  his  last  birthday,  seven  months  before. 

The  building  of  that  schoolhouse  was  one  long  joy  to 
Jesse.  His  father  taught  him  every  detail  of  the  fascinat- 
ing business:  how  to  lay  the  foundations — though  for  this 
work  they  had  a  mason  to  help;  how  to  follow  the  build- 
ing plans,  so  that  each  part  was  accurately  joined  to  all 
the  adjacent  parts,  as  the  bones  and  muscles,  arteries  and 
sinews  of  the  body  are  made  to  work  harmoniously  to- 
gether; how  the  "raising"  should  be  superintended;  the 
perfect  way  to  lay  the  floor,  to  frame  the  windows,  to  lath 
and  plaster,  to  erect  the  chimney — though  here  again  the 
mason  came  to  help.  The  boy  learned  all  these  things,  and 
with  his  strong  young  hands  he  rendered  able  service  in  a 
score  of  ways. 

There  is  a  joy  and  a  sense  of  personal  power  in  the 
higher  forms  of  manual  labour  which  mere  scholars  never 
understand.  To  create  something  with  the  hands  should 
be  a  part  of  the  education  of  every  citizen  of  earth,  how- 
ever rich,  however  learned,  however  far  removed  from  the 
necessity  of  labour.  To  plan  an  object,  great  or  small,  and 
then  to  execute  the  plan  with  masterly  precision  and  to 
the  smallest  detail,  should  be  one  of  the  privileges  which 
go  with  life,  liberty  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness.  So  Jesse 
told  himself,  as  he  hammered  away  on  the  new  school- 
house.  He  was  glad  that  he  had  chosen  to  be  a  carpenter 
instead  of  a  district  school-teacher. 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL  37 

Now  less  than  fifteen  years  old,  he  was  tall  and  strong 
as  many  boys  of  seventeen;  though  slenderly  and  finely 
built,  and  still  possessing  the  extraordinary  beauty  which 
had  singled  him  out  in  childhood  from  the  mass  of  or- 
dinary boys.  Indeed,  that  beauty  had  grown  deeper  and 
stranger  with  every  passing  year.  It  was  a  haunting 
beauty,  and  the  secret  of  its  power  was  something  other 
than  the  mere  charm  of  harmonious;  lines  and  colours. 
Truly,  to  use  an  old  but  never-worn  expression,  the  boy's 
soul  looked  out  of  his  eyes.  Gentle  spirits  were  made 
happy  by  a  glance  from  those  blue  eyes;  but  hypocrites  and 
evil-doers  feared  their  penetrating  gaze,  which  seemed  to 
unclothe  safely-guarded  motives,  to  challenge  statements 
of  uncertain  truth.  So,  while  Jesse  easily  made  friends  who 
loved  him  with  peculiar  and  passionate  devotion,  there  were 
others  in  his  little  circle  of  acquaintances  who  cherished 
for  him  an  unreasoning  hostility.  Foremost  among  these 
unfriendly  ones  was  the  man  who  owned  the  mortgage  on 
his  father's  little  farm,  that  dark  and  purple-faced  man, 
Thomas  Taylor,  whom  Jesse's  quotation  of  Scripture  re- 
garding the  cup  of  cold  water  had  covered  with  ridicule 
at  the  milk  dealers'  meeting  five  years  before. 

He  was  no  longer  called  "  Brother  Taylor "  by  the 
members  of  the  church;  for  he  was  now  a  backslider,  dally- 
ing with  spiritualism,  openly  challenging  the  authority  of 
religious  dogmas,  and  supposed  to  be  living  on  terms  of  il- 
legal intimacy  with  the  spiritualistic  housekeeper  who  had 
managed  his  home  since  the  death  of  his  wife  three  years 
before.  But,  being  the  richest  farmer  in  Nashburgh,  he 
still  retained  a  certain  authority  among  his  neighbours, 
many  of  wThom  owed  him  money.  Though  Nashburgh, 
like  other  farming  districts,  was  a  hotbed  of  malicious  gos- 
sip, a  man  who  owned  property  there  would  have  had  to 
be  proved  guilty  of  extraordinary  crimes  before  being  really 
ostracised  by  his  neighbours.  They  might  believe  him 
worthy  to  be  hanged ;  but,  so  long  as  he  paid  his  taxes  regu- 
larly and  hired  men  in  haying  and  harvesting,  no  one  would 
have  the  initiative  to  twist  a  rope.  Even  ^he  hard-faced 
spiritualistic  housekeeper  at  the  Taylor  farm  was  civilly 
spoken  to  by  the  women,  if  by  chance  they  met  her  in  the 
road.  But  behind  her  back  they  referred  to  her  in  good 


38  THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

old  Saxon  terms,  out  of  the  Bible,  and  charged  her  with  the 
backsliding  of  the  man  who  presumably  paid  her  big  wages. 

As  the  work  went  busily  on  at  the  new  schoolhouse,  the 
neighbours  made  a  habit  of  dropping  in  occasionally  to  see 
how  things  were  progressing.  One  afternoon  in  August 
the  burly  figure  of  Thomas  Taylor  appeared  in  the  un- 
cased doorway.  The  old  builder,  Jesse's  father,  was  tak- 
ing a  short  rest;  while  the  boy  was  standing  on  a  plank 
supported  by  two  saw-horses,  nailing  on  a  window-casing. 
The  men  talked  in  a  friendly  way  about  the  crops  and  the 
weather. 

During  a  lull  in  the  conversation,  Jesse's  father  went 
into  the  half-finished  entry  to  get  something  out  of  his  coat- 
pocket.  While  his  back  was  turned,  Taylor  moved  lumber- 
ingly  about  the  place;  and  when  within  a  few  feet  of  the 
saw-horse  nearest  the  door,  he  stumbled  and  fell  for- 
ward against  the  horse,  knocking  it  from  under  the  plank 
on  which  Jesse  was  standing.  Quick  as  a  cat,  the  boy 
sprang  onto  the  window-ledge  and  saved  himself  a  fall. 
Then,  sliding  down  to  the  floor,  he  stood  opposite  Taylor, 
who  was  picking  up  his  straw  hat  which  had  fallen  from 
his  head. 

"  Stumbled  over  that  blamed  timber,"  Taylor  muttered ; 
"  guess  I  must  be  gettin'  old  and  clumsy." 

Jesse,  who  had  often  caught  the  side-glance  of  malignity 
which  Taylor  gave  him,  knew  well  that  his  stumbling 
against  the  saw-horse  was  no  accident;  but  that  he  had 
purposely  exposed  him  to  a  dangerous  fall.  He  threw  back 
his  beautiful  head  and  looked  at  Taylor,  their  eyes  o'h  a 
level.  Then,  with  a  slow,  peculiar  smile  he  said: 

"  The  man  who  fills  his  field  with  traps,  should  walk 
warily  when  he  goes  about  after  sundown." 

Without  a  word,  Taylor  turned  on  his  heel  and  left  the 
schoolhouse. 

That  evening  Jesse  was  sitting  under  the  grape-vines 
watching  the  moon  rise,  when  Marty  White  came  down 
the  road  and  stopped  at  the  gate  to  speak  with  the  younger 
boys  who  were  lounging  on  the  fence. 

"Have  you  heard  the  news?"  asked  Marty.  "Thomas 
Taylor  stumbled  and  fell  down  his  cellar  stairs  a  little 
while  ago.  He's  broke  his  arm." 


THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL  39 

The  heart  of  the  listening  Jesse  seemed  to  stand  still. 
Was  it  possible  that  such  things  could  really  happen?  He 
stared  into  the  face  of  the  moon  which  had  risen  blood- 
red  over  the  mountain.  Out  of  the  maze  of  his  thoughts 
three  questions  shaped  themselves  with  startling  vivid- 
ness: 

Could  he  really  see  into  the  future,  and  had  his  words 
to  Taylor  in  the  afternoon  been  a  true  prophecy? 

Could  the  word  of  a  human  being,  spoken  in  a  moment 
of  strong  feeling,  bring  an  event  to  pass? 

Was  there  a  law  of  cause  and  effect,  a  law  of  justice, 
that  measured  out  to  evil-doers  retribution  in  the  very  de- 
gree and  kind  of  their  offending? 

He  sat  so  long  under  the  grape-vines  that  his  mother 
came  at  last  and  urged  him  to  go  to  bed,  that  he  might 
get  rest  and  strength  for  the  next  day's  labours. 

The  last  nail  was  driven  in  the  schoolhouse  only  two 
days  before  the  opening  of  the  fall  term,  in  September.  As 
his  father  had  let  out  their  harvesting  on  shares  that  year, 
on  account  of  the  more  profitable  building  work,  Jesse  was 
now  free  for  a  time  to  read  and  dream  and  think.  He 
had,  of  course,  to  help  about  the  daily  chores  of  the  farm; 
but  these  duties  were  light  and  left  him  abundant  leisure. 
Among  other  books,  he  read  the  Bible  through  from  be- 
ginning to  end;  and  he  read  carefully  the  weekly  news- 
paper, and  the  one  popular  monthly  magazine  which  they 
could  afford  to  take.  He  studied  the  world  as  it  was,  and 
meditated  on  the  world  as  it  ought  to  be.  One  day  he  said 
to  his  mother: 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  our  souls  have  made  small  progress 
in  the  last  two  thousand  years,  for  all  the  beauty  of  the  re- 
ligion we  profess.  Do  not  almost  all  men  lie?  Do  they 
not  hate  their  enemies  instead  of  loving  them?  Does  he 
not  prosper  most  who  most  oppresses  the  poor?  And  is 
not  the  man  who  is  most  honoured  among  his  fellows  al- 
ways the  one  who  has  deceived  them  most?  Mother,  the 
world  is  ripe  for  revolution,  a  religious  revolution,  a  great 
awakening  of  the  spiritual  life.  The  old  religion  has 
failed.  We  need  a  new  one.  Sometimes  I  wonder — I 
wonder " 


40  THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

"What  do  you  wonder,  my  darling?  You  make  me  al- 
most afraid  when  you  have  that  expression  in  your  eyes !  " 

He  did  not  look  at  her,  but  out,  far  out  over  the  sum- 
mit of  old  Thunder  Mountain. 

"  Sometimes  I  wonder  if  I  am  not  the  one  who  shall 
bring  to  the  world  the  faith  it  needs." 

The  heart  of  the  mother  throbbed  with  sudden  prescience 
of  impending  destiny.  She  drew  Jesse  to  her  bosom,  as  if 
to  guard  him  from  the  unimaginable  future  that  already 
reached  for  him  with  long,  insistent  arms.  They  sat  to- 
gether in  silence  for  an  hour,  the  boy's  face  lighted  by  his 
kindling  thought,  the  mother's  lighted  by  her  thought  of 
him. 

The  following  winter  Jesse  made  a  strange  discovery. 
His  father  had  been  tortured  for  weeks  with  the  pains 
of  rheumatism,  and  one  day  the  boy  said: 

"  Father,  let  me  rub  the  arm  that  hurts  you  so.  I  feel 
that  I  might  ease  you,  if  I  should  try." 

The  old  man  stretched  out  his  right  arm,  discoloured 
and  swollen  from  finger-tips  to  elbow;  and  the  boy  began 
to  rub  it  with  his  hands,  first  gently,  then  more  firmly,  his 
heart  filled  with  the  loving  hope  to  relieve  suffering.  Af- 
ter a  few  minutes  he  laid  the  arm  back  tenderly  upon  his 
father's  knee. 

"  I  think  it  will  not  pain  you  so  much  now,"  he  said. 

The  father  looked  at  him  a  moment,  lifted  the  afflicted 
arm,  and  with  his  other  hand  carefully  felt  of  it  in  every 
part.  Then  his  eyes  slowly  turned  to  his  son's  face. 

"  It's  strange,"  he  said,  "  it's  mighty  strange;  but  you've 
taken  all  the  pain  away.  I've  not  been  easy  in  that  arm 
one  minute  for  a  month,  and  now — I  wouldn't  know  I 
had  an  arm.  It's  strange,  it's  mighty  strange." 

That  night  the  old  man  had  the  first  long  sleep  which 
he  had  known  for  weeks.  And  in  the  morning  also  he  was 
free  from  pain. 

The  next  afternoon  the  doctor  came.  This  case  of  rheu- 
matism had  given  him  much  thought,  because  the  weak 
condition  of  the  patient's  heart  had  limited  his  choice  of 
medicines.  He  listened  with  keen  interest  to  the  father's 
story  of  the  boy's  success  where  his  own  science  had  failed; 


THE   SON   OF   MARY   BETHEL  41 

he  wiped  his  spectacles,  nodded  his  head,  and  stroked  his 
long  grey  beard. 

"  There  are  those  born  who  have  that  power,"  he  said, 
"  and  science  is  beginning  to  take  note  of  it.  Unfortunately, 
most  of  those  who  have  the  gift  of  natural  healing  are 
classed  with  quacks  and  charlatans,  because  so  few  of  them 
are  regularly  qualified  physicians.  Young  man,"  he  added, 
turning  to  Jesse,  "why  don't  you  study  medicine?" 

"  If  I  can  really  ease  pain  with  my  hands,"  the  boy 
replied,  "  why  do  I  need  to  study  medicine  ?  " 

The  doctor  went  away  without  leaving  any  prescription, 
merely  telling  them  to  let  him  know  if  the  rheumatism 
should  reappear.  But  there  was  no  occasion  to  send  for 
him  again  that  winter. 


CHAPTER  VII 

WHEN  spring  came  round  again  the  mother  feared  that 
Jesse  was  not  well.  He  did  not  complain  of  anything;  but 
he  was  preternaturally  quiet  and  given  to  long  reveries,  to 
long  gazing  at  old  blue  Thunder  Mountain  in  the  day- 
time and  at  the  starry  skies  in  the  evening.  Once  at  twi- 
light she  found  him  sitting  alone  under  the  grape-vines, 
and  on  going  up  behind  him  and  putting  her  arm  around  his 
neck,  she  was  grieved  to  see  that  the  eyes  he  raised  to 
hers  were  full  of  tears. 

"My  boy!"  she  whispered,  "is  anything  the  matter?  " 

"  No,  Mother,  nothing." 

"  Then  why  those  tears  ?  And  why  are  you  so  silent 
and  sad  of  late?  " 

"  I  am  not  really  sad,  Mother.  But  my  heart  is  very  full 
of  something,  and  I  don't  quite  know  what  it  is  that 
troubles  me.  I  am  not  unhappy,  and  yet  I  am  never  at 
rest.  I  seem  to  be  always  waiting  for  something  that  does 
not  come.  In  the  morning  I  long  for  the  night,  and  at 
night  I  long  for  the  morning." 

He  sat  looking  at  her  for  some  moments,  as  if  there 
were  something  he  wanted  to  say;  he  opened  his  lips,  then 
closed  them  again. 

"What  is  it,  Jesse?"  she  asked.  "You  can  tell  your 
mother  anything.  Is  there  something  you  want  to  do  ?  " 

"Do  you  think  that  Father  would  object  if  I  should  go 
up  there  " — -he  pointed  east  toward  the  blue  mountain — 
"  if  I  should  go  up  there  and  stay  a  few  days  all  alone  ? 
It's  an  unusual  thing  to  do,  and  I  cannot  well  explain 
to  him  my  reason,  for  I'm  not  sure  of  the  reason  myself; 
but  I  know  that  I  have  to  go.  Will  you  explain  it  to 
Father?  " 

"But  what  would  you  eat,  my  boy?  And  where  would 
you  sleep  ?  There's  hardly  a  soul  living  up  there !  " 

"  I  know  there  is  solitude,  and  that  is  why  I  want  to  go. 
And  there's  something  else  up  there:  I  don't  know  what 
it  is,  but  it's  the  answer  to  a  question.  You  can  give  me 

42 


THE    SON    OF    MARY   BETHEL  43 

some  bread  and  a  few  boiled  eggs  in  my  pocket,  and  I  can 
sleep  under  the  trees.  You  know  I've  often  slept  outdoors 
in  summer,  since  I  was  old  enough  to  have  my  own  way 
a  little." 

"  And  you  shall  have  your  way  in  this,  my  boy.  I'll 
arrange  .everything  with  your  father;  you  shall  go  when- 
ever you  like." 

And  he  went  the  next  day. 

On  the  third  evening  he  returned.  His  mother  saw 
him  coming  along  the  road  with  head  erect  and  shoulders 
square.  Her  heart  leaped  with  gladness,  and  she  went  out 
to  meet  him. 

"  It's  all  right,  little  Mother,"  he  said,  bending  to  kiss 
her,  for  he  was  nearly  as  tall  as  his  father,  "  It's  all  right 
now.  I  found  the  answer  to  my  question." 

"  Can't  you  tell  your  mother  what  it  was?"  she  asked. 

"  I'd  rather  not,"  he  answered.  "  I  really  don't  think 
I  could  make  anyone  understand.  I  had  to  make  a  sacri- 
fice, and  went  up  onto  the  mountain  to  do  it,  like  the  old 
fellows  in  the  Bible, — only  their  sacrifices  were  different 
from  mine.  And  I'm  not  going  to  be  sad  any  more.  It's 
wonderful  how  happy  we  are  when  we  have  sacrificed  hap- 


piness 


Puzzled  by  his  words,  but  full  of  joy  at  having  him 
again  at  home,  she  drew  him  into  the  house  and  made  him 
eat  some  supper.  Without  evasion,  he  answered  all  the 
questions  of  his  father  and  the  boys:  how  the  trees  looked 
on  the  mountain,  whether  it  was  cold  at  night  up  there, 
whether  he  saw  anybody,  whether  there  were  blackberry 
bushes,  and  all  the  other  things  that  arose  in  their  simple 
minds  in  connection  with  his  sojourn  on  the  mountain. 
There  was  no  need  of  evasion,  for  the  only  questions  he 
could  not  have  answered  were  questions  they  could  not 
have  asked.  So  they  passed  a  happy  evening  together, 
Jesse  and  his  family;  and  the  next  morning  he  arose  early 
and  went  singing  about  the  business  of  the  farm. 

In  June  of  that  year  he  again  saw  Mary  Magnus,  the 
pretty  Mary  of  Vergennes,  now  a  tall  and  rounding  girl 
of  over  fourteen.  It  was  the  first  time  she  had  been  in 
Nashburgh  since  she  was  eight  years  old  and  had  sat  for 


44  THE   SON   OF  MARY   BETHEL 

a  week  beside  her  second  cousin,  Susie  Smith,  in  the  little 
old  schoolhouse.  This  weather-beaten  relic  was  no  longer 
in  its  former  place,  but  had  come  down  in  the  world  to 
serve  humbly  as  a  sheep-barn  for  Olin  Madison,  the  most 
comfortably  placed  farmer  in  the  town,  with  the  sole  ex- 
ception of  Thomas  Taylor. 

Mrs.  Olin  Madison  was  a  proud  woman,  with  ideas 
beyond  the  humble  life  she  lived  as  a  Nashburgh  farmer's 
wife.  Though  she  had  but  little  intellect,  she  had  tower- 
ing ambitions  for  her  two  tall  sons,  David  and  Theodore, 
both  students  in  the  high  school  of  the  next  village.  Mrs. 
Madison  was  not  a  church-member;  she  considered  the 
emotional  form  of  religion  which  flourished  in  that  region 
as  being  rather  undignified.  Had  there  been  a  church  with 
a  pipe-organ  within  easy  distance,  she  might  have  paid  it 
her  respects  occasionally  on  Sunday  morning. 

After  high  school  closed  in  June  her  two  sons  were  at 
home;  and  as  Mary  Magnus  was  the  daughter  of  a  man 
of  wealth,  when  Mrs.  Madison  learned  of  her  arrival  at 
the  Smiths'  she  decided  to  have  a  croquet-party  for  the 
young  people.  As  one  could  not  have  a  party  without 
guests,  she  was  obliged  to  ask  the  less  important  boys  and 
girls  of  the  place. 

She  really  felt  rather  kindly  toward  her  neighbours,  in 
a  cool  and  negative  way;  though  she  would  have  sacrificed 
the  reputation  of  any  one  of  them  for  the  intense  pleasure 
of  rolling  a  morsel  of  gossip  under  her  tongue.  Pride  and 
curiosity  were  her  chief  faults,  with  a  little  spice  of  scorn 
thrown  in  to  season  the  mixture.  But,  all  in  all,  she  meant 
to  be  a  good  woman.  Had  she  been  born  a  duchess,  she 
might  have  been  quite  simple,  as  then  there  would  have 
been  no  need  of  self-assertion ;  had  she  lived  in  a  place 
where  anything  worth  talking  about  ever  happened,  she 
might  have  had  other  things  to  think  of  than  her  neigh- 
bours' weaknesses.  And  she  was  a  good  mother,  making 
many  personal  sacrifices  to  educate  her  sons,  doing  her  own 
housework  and  wearing  her  old  clothes.  Was  her  motive 
love,  or  ambition?  The  two  are  often  one,  even  in  the 
heart  of  a  mother. 

Mrs.  Madison  received  her  young  guests  on  the  veran- 
dah. She  was  a  tall  woman,  and  for  all  her  fifty-five  years, 


THE   SON   OF   MARY   BETHEL  45 

preserved  an  almost  girlish  slenderness.  She  wore  a  grey 
dress  of  some  thin  material  which  matched  in  shade  her 
flurry  iron-grey  hair. 

Jesse  arrived  early,  with  his  two  brothers.  All  women 
liked  him  for  his  gentleness  and  beauty,  and  Mrs.  Madison 
was  extremely  affable  that  day.  She  praised  him  for  his 
work  on  the  new  schoolhouse  which  raised  its  white  form 
on  a  near-by  hill;  but  when  she  told  him,  with  a  little 
smile  of  condescension,  that  he  was  too  bright  a  boy  to 
choose  carpentry  for  a  life  work,  he  knew  she  was  compar- 
ing him  with  her  own  beloved  sons  who  had  not  yet  chosen 
their  careers,  but  were  expected  by  everyone  to  do  some- 
thing brilliant  for  themselves  and  their  parents. 

In  little  groups  the  young  people  came  to  the  croquet- 
party.  There  were  the  three  sons  of  Mary  Bethel;  the 
three  Brown  girls  who  lived  a  mile  away  on  the  North 
Road,  shy  and  nervous  girls  who  blushed  when  anyone 
spoke  to  them;  Jesse's  four  cousins,  two  boys  and  two 
girls,  ranging  in  age  from  Jim,  who  was  seventeen,  to 
Ruth,  who  was  thirteen;  Stephen  and  Susie  Smith,  Mary 
Magnus,  and  the  younger  of  Thomas  Taylor's  boys. 

Mary  Magnus  was  the  last  to  come,  with  Susie  Smith. 
Jesse  was  surprised  to  see  how  beautiful  she  had  grown — 
she  who  had  always  been  beautiful. 

Mrs.  Madison  greeted  her  with  effusion,  kissing  her  on 
the  cheek.  Even  plain  little  Susie  came  in  for  a  caress, 
the  first  she  had  ever  received  from  that  source  in  all  her 
fourteen  years  of  life  in  Nashburgh. 

"  You  two  girls  come  right  into  my  bedroom  and  take 
your  hats  off,"  said  the  hostess.  The  other  girls  had  left 
their  hats  in  the  sitting-room.  This  was  Mrs.  Madi- 
son's way  of  showing  special  honour  to  a  distinguished 
guest. 

"  Hadn't  we  better  keep  our  hats  on  ?  "  asked  Mary,  who 
had  already  begun  to  care  for  her  complexion.  "  Isn't  it 
sunny  on  the  lawn?  " 

"  Oh,  no !  The  house  shades  half  of  it,  even  so  early  in 
the  afternoon,  and  the  thick  leaves  of  the  trees  shade  the 
other  part.  You'll  feel  so  much  more  at  home  with  your 
hats  off." 

"  It  was  nice  of  you  to  ask  us,"  declared  Mary,  as  she 


46  THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

settled  a  rose  on  one  side  of  her  dark  hair.     "  I  do  so  love 
croquet!  " 

"  So  does  David,  my  son,"  said  David's  mother.  "  He 
was  delighted  when  he  heard  you  were  coming  to  Nash- 
burgh.  There  is  so  little  society  here  for  a  young 
man!" 

"  I  remember  David  well,"  returned  Mary  Magnus ; 
"  he  was  the  largest  boy  in  school  when  I  visited  my  cousin 
Susie  six  years  ago.  I  suppose  he  doesn't  go  to  school  here 
still,"  she  added,  shaking  out  the  ruffles  of  her  sheer  white 
dress  and  giving  her  blue  sash  a  little  twist. 

"  Oh,  dear,  no !  He  graduates  from  the  high  school 
next  year.  He'll  go  to  the  university,  I  suppose." 

Then  Mrs.  Madison  took  them  out  on  the  lawn,  where 
the  other  young  people  were  standing  around  in  groups, 
laughing  and  talking.  Her  sons  immediately  came  forward 
to  meet  the  new  girl.  The  two  boys  were  near  enough 
alike  to  be  twins,  though  there  was  more  than  a  year's 
difference  in  their  ages.  Mary  thought  them  stolid-look- 
ing and  uninteresting.  She  knew  so  many  young  men  that 
she  was  rather  fastidious. 

Then  several  other  boys  came  bashfully  forward  to  meet 
her,  and  last  came  Jesse.  She  greeted  him  as  an  old 
friend. 

"  How  divinely  tall  you've  grown!"  she  exclaimed,  look- 
ing up  at  him  with  her  head  on  one  side,  and  so  exaggerat- 
ing the  difference  in  their  height.  "  You're  a  young  man 
now,  Jesse,  instead  of  the  thoughtless  little  boy  who  went 
away  that  day  without  bidding  me  good-bye." 

"  Did  I  do  that?  Probably  I  never  thought  of  it,"  he 
answered,  with  delightful  though  unflattering  candour. 
Then  he  added:  "You  know  that  was  a  day  of  excitement 
— for  Marty  White  and  my  mother,  at  least." 

"  I've  thought  of  it  a  thousand  times,"  Mary  declared. 
"  However  did  you  have  the  courage  to  do  it  ?  "  She  was 
referring  to  the  snake-bite. 

"  Courage  is  a  large  word,"  said  Jesse,  "  and  that  was 
really  a  very  small  snake." 

Mrs.  Madison  was  moving  about,  explaining  to  her 
guests  that  they  were  to  play  progressive  croquet,  with 
four  croquet-sets,  the  successful  couples  moving  up  to  the 


THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL  47 

next  set,  as  from  table  to  table  in  progressive  euchre.  Then 
came  the  question  of  choosing  partners. 

Olin  Madison,  husband  and  father,  was  distinguished 
in  his  household  for  always  disarranging  the  plans  of  his 
wife  by  clumsily  trying  to  help  her.  He  now  jokingly 
suggested  that,  as  it  was  leap-year,  the  girls  should  choose 
their  own  partners. 

"Always  let  the  pretty  creatures  have  their  own  way," 
he  said,  "  especially  where  the  boys  are  concerned." 

His  proposition  being  hailed  with  laughs  of  delight  from 
both  boys  and  girls,  Mrs.  Madison  could  not  well  object, 
though  she  had  other  plans;  and  that  night  her  husband 
was  roundly  scolded  for  his  interference. 

With  much  laughter  it  was  agreed  that  the  girls  should 
aim  at  a  distant  ball,  the  one  who  hit  it  having  first  choice 
among  the  boys  for  partner,  and  the  others  coming  after 
in  the  order  of  their  nearness  to  the  goal.  Mary  Magnus 
was  the  only  girl  who  hit  the  ball. 

"  Choose  your  partner,"  cried  Olin  Madison,  and  other 
voices  echoed  him. 

Now  Mary  was  a  well-trained  girl,  and  knew  that  she 
should  have  chosen  the  elder  son  of  her  hostess;  but  she 
was  wilful,  and  rather  superior  at  this  rustic  party,  so 
she  chose  according  to  her  own  sweet  inclination.  Walk- 
ing straight  over  to  Jesse  Bethel,  she  said: 

"Will  you  play  with  me,  Jesse?" 

"  I  hoped  you  would  choose  me,"  he  answered,  "  when 
I  saw  the  way  you  took  that  ball  at  a  distance  of  thirty 
feet."  Then,  as  an  afterthought,  he  added:  "But  I'd  be 
glad  to  play  with  you,  anyway,  if  you  never  hit  a  ball, 
because  I  like  you." 

Mary  opened  her  eyes  wide.  He  certainly  was  different 
from  everybody  else,  she  thought,  even  in  his  way  of  saying 
pleasant  things. 

The  other  girls  chose  partners,  in  the  order  of  their  skill 
at  the  first  shot;  and  plain  little  Susie,  being  second-best, 
chose  David  Madison  whom  she  secretly  admired.  As 
there  were  sixteen  players  but  only  seven  girls,  two  of  the 
boys  were  obliged  to  play  together,  one  of  them  having 
a  handkerchief  tied  around  his  sleeve,  "  to  make  him  a  girl," 
as  they  expressed  it.  The  two  boys  who  played  together 


48  THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

were  the  ones  left  over  after  the  choice  of  partners,  those 
whom  no  girl  had  taken;  they  were  Jesse's  cousin,  Jim 
Bethel,  and  the  Taylor  boy. 

"  Remember  how  I  licked  you  that  time  when  we  all 
went  to  camp-meeting  at  the  Grove  ?  "  asked  Jim,  as  he 
tied  the  handkerchief  around  his  partner's  arm. 

"  You  couldn't  do  it  now,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  could,  if  you  should  pitch  on  Jesse  as  you 
did  then!" 

"There's  provocation  enough  to-day,"  responded  the 
Taylor  boy,  looking  across  the  lawn  to  where  Jesse  and 
Mary  Magnus  were  standing  together.  "  That  cousin  of 
yours  has  always  got  everything  I  wanted  for  myself,  even 
the  prize  for  speaking  pieces  in  school." 

"Jesse  didn't  care  anything  about  that  prize;  he'd  much 
rather  you'd  have  had  it — he  said  so." 

"  I  know  it,"  muttered  the  other,  "  and  that's  one  rea- 
son the  more  why  I  hate  him." 

"  Oh,  come  now !     You  know  he's  my  cousin " 

"  All  right ;  I  won't  say  any  more."  And  he  turned  to 
take  his  mallet  from  David  Madison. 

They  divided  themselves  into  four  groups,  four  players 
to  each  croquet-set,  and  then  began  their  friendly  battle  for 
the  prizes. 

Mary  and  Jesse  won  every  game  for  an  hour.  As  they 
began  at  the  first  set,  there  they  remained,  the  losing  play- 
ers passing  down,  while  the  successful  couple  from  the  set 
below  moved  up  to  play  with  them.  After  a  time  Jesse 
began  to  feel  half  guilty  at  their  success.  He  said  to  Mary, 
very  low,  so  that  no  one  else  could  hear  him: 

"  Hadn't  we  better  lose  this  game?  It  doesn't  seem 
kind  to  win  everything." 

"Why  not?"  she  asked,  with  a  toss  of  her  pretty  head. 
"  I  play  a  game  for  the  game's  sake."  Then,  with  a  quick 
little  smile  and  a  glance  from  her  brown  eyes,  "  If  you  play 
badly  now,  and  let  them  win,  you'll  be  cheating  me." 

"I  wouldn't  do  it  unless  you  were  willing,"  he  replied; 
"  but  I  would  like  to  let  my  cousin  and  Joe  Taylor  win. 
You  know  the  girls  all  passed  them  by  in  choosing  part- 
ners." 

They  began  to  play,  Mary  opening  the  game  brilliantly; 


THE    SON   OF   MARY   BETHEL  49 

but  after  the  second  shot  she  murmured  to  him :  "  Yes, 
Jesse,  let  us  lose  the  game."  And  they  lost  it,  passing 
down  to  the  next  set. 

"  Let's  do  it  again,"  he  whispered. 

"Yes,  Jesse."  And  they  lost  again.  To  watch  the 
pleasure  of  their  adversaries  in  winning  was  better  for  them 
than  another  notch  on  their  card.  But  when  they  again 
passed  down  to  the  third  set  below,  Mary  said: 

"  Now,  Jesse,  let's  really  play  to  win.  I'm  getting  rest- 
less." 

"  I  think  you've  only  won  these  last  three  games,"  he 
whispered  to  her,  with  a  gentle  look  which  made  her 
ashamed. 

Slowly  his  meaning  sank  into  her  mind,  and  she  stared 
at  him,  her  memory  going  back  to  their  first  talk,  six  years 
before,  and  to  the  apple  which  he  had  given  to  Marty 
White — her  first  and  only  gift  to  him  passed  on  to  another 
without  a  thought  of  regret.  Her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 
He  saw  them,  and  his  face  grew  soft. 

"  I  didn't  think  you  cared  so  much  about  winning,"  he 
breathed. 

"  Oh,  it  wasn't  that,  believe  me,  Jesse!  I  was  think- 
ing of  something  which  happened  a  long  time  ago." 

"  I  think  now,"  he  said,  "  that  I  also  want  to  win. 
Let's  play  as  we  never  played  before." 

And  they  did,  winning  every  game  for  the  rest  of  the 
afternoon.  The  prizes  were  pathetically  cheap,  a  nickel- 
plated  pencil  for  Jesse,  and  for  Mary  a  little  pocket-book 
of  imitation  leather  which  she  secretly  resolved  to  give  to 
her  mother's  maid. 

Then  they  went  in  to  supper,  which  was  served  in  the 
cool  dining-room  of  the  farmhouse.  They  found  their 
places  marked  by  little  cards,  Mrs.  Madison  having  re- 
cently learned  this  custom  from  a  book  on  the  etiquette 
of  entertaining.  Mary,  who  was  always  observant,  noticed 
that  the  plates  were  bottom  side  up  and  the  knives  in  the 
wrong  place,  and  she  wondered  who  had  taught  Mrs. 
Madison  to  set  a  table  in  that  way.  She  never  thought  of 
criticising  the  table  at  her  cousin's  house,  because  there 
they  made  no  pretences  to  elegance. 

Mary  sat  between  Mr.  Madison  and  David,  who  now 


SO  THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

had  the  desired  opportunity  to  talk  with  her;  though  he 
was  still  a  little  piqued  at  her  having  chosen  Jesse  as  a 
partner  instead  of  him. 

"  Have  you  ever  been  in  New  York,  Miss  Mary? " 
David  asked,  by  way  of  opening  the  conversation. 

"Oh,  yes,  many  times!  My  mother  buys  my  clothes 
there,  and  when  I'm  very  good  and  obedient,  she  lets  me 
go  with  her — but  not  always." 

"Then  you're  not  always  good  and  obedient?  " 

"  Oh,  dear,  no !  I  hate  obedience.  I  want  to  have  my 
own  way,  and  when  I'm  not  allowed  to  have  it,  I  make  a 
fuss." 

"Do  you  think  that  is  proper?"  asked  David.  There 
are  young  souls  who  love  propriety,  even  in  these  revolu- 
tionary days. 

"Proper?"   said    Mary.      "What's   that?" 

David  got  a  little  red,  and  hesitated  in  replying.  He 
wanted  to  tell  her  that  it  was  proper  to  choose  the  son 
of  your  hostess  to  play  with  you,  instead  of  another  fel- 
low; but  he  knew  it  would  not  be  proper  to  say  that  to 
a  guest,  so  he  compromised  by  saying: 

"Why,  er — it  seems  to  me  that  it's  proper  to  do  what's 
expected  of  us.  Don't  you  think  so?" 

She  laughed,  a  merry  little  gurgle  good  to  hear.  "  But," 
she  replied,  "  people  always  expect  me  to  do  whatever  I 
like." 

"  I  fear  you're  sadly  spoiled,"  he  said,  in  a  grave  tone 
which  sounded  almost  fatherly;  then,  in  quite  another 
manner,  he  added:  "  Maybe  it's  because  you  are  so  beau- 
tiful." 

"  Maybe,"  she  answered. 

"  Then  you  really  know  how  beautiful  you  are  ?  " 

"  I've  been  told  so  all  my  life.  But,  David,"  her  tone 
grew  serious,  "I'd  rather  be  good  like  Jesse  Bethel  than 
to  be  as  beautiful  as  Cleopatra."  And  she  told  him  about 
the  games  they  had  lost  on  purpose. 

"  I  think  that  was  rather  stupid,"  was  David's  com- 
ment. "  A  game  is  a  game.  But  you  seem  to  like  Jesse 
very  much." 

"  Oh,  I  think  he's  the  most  beautiful  being  I  ever  saw — 
and  the  best!  Just  look  at  him  now." 

Jesse  was  far  down  on  the  other  side  of  the  table.     He 


THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL  51 

was  seated  between  Susie  Smith  and  one  of  the  Brown 
girls,  and  was  telling  them  a  story.  David  and  Mary  could 
not  hear  what  he  was  saying,  because  of  the  chatter  of  their 
neighbours;  but  they  could  see  his  face,  which  would  have 
been  a  study  for  the  master-painters  of  the  Renaissance. 
Oval,  and  rather  pale  save  for  a  faint  pink  on  the  cheeks, 
his  face  was  of  an  almost  feminine  transparency;  while 
on  the  chin  and  far  back  at  the  sides  a  soft  gold-coloured 
down  was  beginning  to  show  the  promise  of  his  dawning 
manhood.  Under  the  waving  red-gold  of  his  hair  his  eyes 
shone  calm  and  blue,  "  like  pansies  in  an  alabaster  vase," 
Mary  told  herself. 

She  watched  him  for  a  little  while  in  silence,  uncon- 
scious of  everything  else;  then,  with  a  start,  she  turned 
again  to  David,  who  had  just  asked  her  something — what, 
she  did  not  know. 

"You  call  me  beautiful,"  she  said;  "but  beside  a  face 
like  that  mine  is  like  a  lump  of  dough.  Can't  you  see, 
David,  how  unlike  all  other  human  faces  that  one  is?" 

"  I  think  he  looks  like  a  wToman,"  David  answered, 
rather  crossly. 

"  Maybe,  though  I  hadn't  thought  of  it  before.  His 
face  is  like  a  man's,  and  like  a  woman's,  too;  only  he's 
more  beautiful  than  any  man,  and  lovelier  than  any 
woman." 

David  turned  suddenly  and  looked  into  her  eyes.  "  It 
seems  that  you've  lost  your  wits  over  Jesse,"  he  said. 

"What  do  you  mean,  David?" 

He  laughed,  rather  unpleasantly. 

Then  she  also  turned  suddenly  and  looked  at  him.  They 
were  silent  for  a  moment,  studying  each  other. 

"  I  think  you  don't  understand  about  Jesse,"  Mary  said 
quietly.  "  I  don't  think  any  of  us  do.  But  he's  not  like 
us." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  David  returned. 

"I  don't  know  myself  just  what  I  mean;  but  you'll  see 
some  day." 

Just  then  Mrs.  Madison  rose  from  the  table,  and  all 
the  young  people  followed  her  out  on  the  lawn,  where 
they  had  walnuts  and  maple-sugar  candy.  And  after  a 
little  while  they  began  to  go  away. 

When  Mary  gave  her  hand  to  Jesse  in  token  of  parting, 


52  THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

she  said:     "I'm   going  home  to-morrow  morning;  but  if 
you  are  ever  in  Vergennes,  will  you  come  to  see  me?  " 

"  I  surely  will,"  he  answered. 

"You  promise?  " 

"  I  promise." 

"Good-bye,  Jesse." 

"Good-bye,  Mary." 


CHAPTER   VIII 

SLOWLY  the  months  went  by,  unmarked  by  any  special 
happening,  but  full  of  quiet  work  and  thought  and  read- 
ing. Though  Jesse  could  buy  few  books,  he  had  the 
catalogue  of  a  series  of  inexpensive  reprints  of  the  world's 
classics,  and  when  at  intervals  a  half-dollar  could  be  spared 
from  the  slim  family  purse,  he  sent  for  another  volume. 
He  read  a  little  science,  a  little  philosophy,  a  little  poetry, 
a  little  history,  bringing  to  each  new  subject  a  boundless 
enthusiasm  and  a  point  of  view  unique  in  its  originality. 
In  philosophy  he  accepted  nothing  unconditionally,  nothing 
on  mere  authority;  but  questioned  every  statement  of 
every  author,  seeking  for  the  kernel  of  unassailable  truth 
in  the  harvest  of  assumptions.  History  he  read  with  some 
reservations,  science  with  questioning  interest,  while  poetry 
filled  him  with  rapture.  It  was  a  strange  and  uneven  cul- 
ture he  was  gradually  acquiring,  a  culture  which  broadened 
his  horizon  without  lessening  the  originality  of  his  view- 
point. Many  things  which  were  mere  commonplaces  in 
the  schools  he  knew  not  at  all;  while  many  other  things 
the  schools  knew  not  he  learned  from  deep  and  solitary 
experience,  having  no  confidant  except  the  blue  old  distant 
mountain  and  the  stars.  And  more  and  more,  as  time  went 
on,  did  his  vague  conviction  grow  that  he  was  called  to 
some  peculiar  service  in  the  regeneration  of  the  world. 
The  oldest  book  and  the  most  recent  newspaper  were  of 
equal  interest  to  him,  and  he  was  too  keen-sighted  to  es- 
cape the  cruel  facts  of  modern  human  life. 

Sometimes  as  he  drove  his  father's  two  old  cows  to  pas- 
ture, he  mused  on  the  personality  of  God;  as  he  made  the 
garden,  he  weighed  the  inequalities  of  wealth;  as  he  tapped 
the  maple-trees  in  spring,  he  considered  the  beliefs  of  old 
pantheists;  as  he  did  small  odd-jobs  of  carpentry  for  the 
neighbours,  he  questioned  how  the  Egyptian  pyramids  were 
builded,  and  evolved  a  theory  of  his  own  about  them  which 
was  as  good  as  any  other  theory  and  simpler  than  most. 

53 


54  THE    SON    OF  MARY    BETHEL 

And  as  he  read  and  thought  and  studied,  four  stupen- 
dous questions  gradually  took  form  within  his  mind: 
"What  is  God?"  "What  am  I?"  "What  are  my  re- 
lations to  God  ?  "  "  What  are  my  relations  to  my  fellow 
men  ?  "  So  far,  he  had  not  found  a  satisfactory  answer  to 
any  of  these  problems.  The  platitudes  of  the  stock  relig- 
ious writers  left  him  cold,  and  the  books  of  the  more  mys- 
tical religious  writers  had  not  been  added  to  his  slender 
library.  Of  the  speculations  of  modern  psychologists  he 
knew  almost  nothing  at  this  period  of  his  growth,  and  he 
had  seen  only  fragments  of  the  sociological  writings  of  the 
time.  Not  having  access  to  the  world's  accumulated  knowl- 
edge, out  of  himself  he  sought  to  bring  the  wisdom  that 
should  answer  his  four  questions. 

The  summer  Jesse  was  sixteen  he  made  another  discov- 
ery of  unusual  power  within  himself.  His  cousin  Jim,  who 
was  a  little  older  than  he,  was  a  locally  famous  colt- 
breaker,  already  known  for  miles  around  as  the  most  skil- 
ful master  of  unmanageable  horses  that  could  be  found 
anywhere  in  that  part  of  the  State. 

One  morning  when  Jesse  went  to  see  Jim,  he  found  the 
big  fellow  in  a  bad  humour. 

"  It's  that  infernal  colt  of  Thomas  Taylor's  that  ails 
me,"  said  Jim,  in  answer  to  Jesse's  question.  "  I've  had 
him  now  quite  a  spell,  and  I  can't  do  a  thing  with  him. 
He's  a  devil — like  his  master.  I  wouldn't  tell  anybody 
except  you,  Jesse,  but  I'm  actually  afraid  of  the  beast.  I 
suppose  I've  got  to  tackle  him  again  this  morning,  though." 

"  Better  wait  awhile,"  advised  Jesse.  "  You  can't  do 
anything  with  a  horse,  or  a  man  either,  so  long  as  you're 
afraid  of  him.  Suppose  you  let  me  try?  " 

"You!"  Jim's  tone  was  one  of  scornful  amusement. 
"Why,  what  do  you  know  about  horses?" 

Jesse  only  said :  "  Let  me  see  this  fellow.  I  think 
maybe  you  don't  understand  him." 

"  Come  on,  then,"  Jim  assented.  "  He's  in  the  south 
stall.  Don't  think,  though,  I'm  going  to  let  you  break  your 
pretty  neck  fooling  with  that  devil.  But  in  case  he  breaks 
my  neck,  you  may  as  well  be  there  to  see  it,  I  suppose." 

The  two  boys  went  to  the  stable. 


THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL  55 

"  Shall  I  take  him  out  ?  "  asked  Jesse. 

Jim  laughed  again.  "  Not  if  I  know  it,"  he  said,  grimly. 
"  You  stay  here  in  the  yard,  and  I'll  bring  him  out." 

Jim  disappeared  through  the  doorway  of  the  stable. 
Jesse  stood  alone,  watching  the  leaves  of  the  apple-trees  in 
the  orchard  move  softly  in  the  breeze.  "  How  beautiful 
the  whole  world  is!  "  he  whispered  to  himself. 

Jim  and  the  colt  came  plunging  into  the  yard. 

"  Maybe  you  think  you'd  like  to  bit  him,  and  bridle  him, 
and  mount  him!  "  satirically  cried  the  colt-breaker,  as 
he  tugged  at  the  halter.  Then,  as  the  horse  gave  another 
leap,  "  Hi,  there,  you  devil!  Stand  still,  will  you?" 

Jesse  went  over  and  closed  the  gate,  also  the  stable 
door.  "  Now  let  the  horse  loose,"  he  said,  "  and  listen  to 
me." 

Jim  released  the  animal,  which  gave  a  nervous  leap  and 
then  stood  still,  as  if  he  also  was  watching  the  leaves  of 
the  apple-trees  in  the  orchard  move  softly  in  the  breeze. 

"  I'm  listening,"  answered  Jim. 

Jesse  smiled.  "  I  suppose,"  he  said,  "  when  Taylor 
brought  that  horse  here,  he  told  you  that  he  was  a  devil. 
I  suppose  you've  told  the  horse  he  was  a  devil  every  time 
you've  been  near  him  since  that  day.  Poor  horse!  No 
wonder  he  believes  he  is  a  devil.  Jim,  whatever  infernal 
spirit  there  may  be  in  that  dumb  friend  of  ours,  Taylor 
and  you  created  it.  Isn't  he  a  beauty?  Look  at  his 
splendid  head,  look  at  his  intelligent  eyes,  look  at  the  long 
curve  of  his  great  back.  He's  an  animal  made  to  love 
and  serve  a  gentle  master.  Now  I'm  going  to  bit  that 
horse,  and  I'm  going  to  bridle  him,  and  I'm  going  to 
mount  him ;  and  you're  going  to  stand  still  where  you  are 
and  leave  us  alone.  What's  his  name?  " 

"  Fred." 

"  The  name  of  my  brother! "  Jesse  smiled  again.  "  Well, 
the  horse  is  also  my  brother." 

He  walked  over  to  the  noble  animal  and  offered  him  a 
handful  of  grass  which  he  had  pulled  by  the  way.  The 
horse  nibbled  the  grass  daintily  from  Jesse's  hand,  while 
with  the  other  hand  the  young  man  stroked  his  broad,  in- 
telligent head.  Then  Jesse  laid  his  palms  one  on  each  side 
of  the  long  face  and  looked  the  animal  straight  in  his 


56 

brown,  serious  eyes.  For  a  moment  he  closed  his  own 
eyes  and  whispered  softly,  "  Good  Fred,  dumb  brother, 
friend." 

He  turned  away,  and  the  horse  followed  him.  He 
walked  around  the  stable-yard,  the  animal  coming  along 
behind  like  a  dog  behind  its  master;  and  when  he  stopped, 
the  warm  nose  was  nuzzling  the  back  of  his  neck.  Then 
he  picked  up  the  bridle,  and  the  horse  opened  his  mouth 
willingly  for  the  bit.  Jesse  buckled  the  straps,  talking  to 
him  meanwhile  in  low  tones. 

"  Now,  my  friend,"  he  said,  when  everything  was  ready, 
"  I'm  going  to  mount  you  and  ride  you  around  the  yard." 

A  quick  leap,  and  he  was  astride  the  horse's  back ;  a  nerv- 
ous start,  a  reassuring  word,  and  they  were  off  in  a  slow 
walk. 

"  Open  the  gate,  Jim,"  said  Jesse,  without  raising  his 
even  voice,  and  the  gate  was  opened.  Then  he  rode  the 
horse  at  a  walk  down  the  road  for  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile,  turned  quietly,  and  came  galloping  back  to  the  stable- 
yard,  where  Jim  was  still  standing  with  open  mouth  and 
staring  eyes. 

"  Well,  I'll  be  blowed !  "  exclaimed  Jim.  ^ 

Jesse  said,  smiling:  "Come,  and  I  will  introduce  you 
to  my  new  friend."  He  took  Jim's  hand  and  rubbed  the 
horse's  face  with  it,  and  the  horse  nuzzled  Jim's  neck  with 
his  nose. 

"  Good  Fred,  kind  Fred,"  Jesse  murmured,  as  he  stroked 
the  animal  and  looked  deep  into  his  eyes.  "  My  cousin  is 
going  to  mount  you  now  and  ride  you  a  little  way." 

Jim  mounted  without  trouble,  and  rode  down  to  Tay- 
lor's house  and  back,  while  Jesse  waited  for  them  in  the 
stable-yard.  When  they  had  put  the  horse  in  the  stall 
again,  Jim  scratched  his  head  and  stood  looking  at  Jesse. 

"  I  wonder,"  he  said,  "  why  you  didn't  ride  that  colt 
down  to  Taylor's  yourself.  I  wonder  why  you  turned  him 
around  just  before  you  got  in  sight  of  the  house." 

"  You  know  quite  well  why,"  Jesse  answered. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  Taylor  hates  you  and  would  be  mad 
to  see  you  on  his  horse?" 

Jesse's  face  fell,  and  he  looked  at  Jim  with  eyes  full  of 
pain.  He  said,  very  softly: 


THE    SON   OF   MARY   BETHEL  57 

"  No,  that  was  not  the  reason." 

Jim  flushed  to  the  forehead,  then  quickly  his  big  hand 
went  out  to  his  cousin's  slender  hand  with  a  full  heart- 
clasp. 

"  Jesse,"  he  cried,  in  a  voice  choked  with  feeling,  "  there's 
not  another  fellow  in  the  world  that's  good  enough  to  lick 
your  shoes! " 


CHAPTER   IX 

SPIRITUALISM  was  rampant  through  New  England  in 
those  days,  and  the  winter  Jesse  was  seventeen  everyone 
in  Nashburgh  was  talking  about  the  phenomena  which  fol- 
lowed a  certain  travelling  medium  who  came  occasionally 
to  one  of  the  neighbouring  towns.  Thomas  Taylor  was 
the  only  man  in  Nashburgh  who  openly  avowed  the  be- 
liefs of  the  strange  cult;  but  Jesse's  father  also  had  a 
passionate  curiosity  in  the  matter,  and  if  it  had  not  been 
for  the  entreaties  of  his  religious  wife  he  would  have  gone 
to  every  meeting  of  the  spiritualists.  Even  as  it  was,  he 
went  occasionally  in  spite  of  her  objections. 

One  afternoon  around  Christmas-time,  Mary  Bethel 
was  sitting  quietly  beside  the  kitchen  fire  doing  the  fam- 
ily mending,  when  her  husband  startled  her  by  announcing 
that  he  was  going  that  night  to  a  seance  to  be  held  in  the 
next  town. 

"  Oh,  I  beg  of  you,  do  not  go ! "  cried  Mary.  "  You 
know  how  I  feel  about  it." 

"  It's  all  prejudice,"  declared  the  old  man,  "  all  non- 
sense, the  way  you  go  on.  Haven't  I  a  right  to  a  little 
amusement  in  my  old  age?  I'll  take  Jesse  along  to  drive 
the  horse  and  to  keep  me  out  of  mischief." 

The  mother  looked  appealingly  at  the  son.  He  smiled 
back  at  her,  saying: 

"  If  Father  wants  to  go,  why  don't  you  let  him  go  and 
find  out  for  himself  what  sort  of  thing  this  is?  You  will 
never  keep  a  can  of  gunpowder  from  exploding  by  merely 
sitting  on  the  lid.  Let  him  go  to-night,  Mother,  and 
I'll  go  with  him.  We  may  both  learn  something.  A  lion 
and  a  horse  need  different  food,  yet  they  are  both  good 
healthy  animals.  If  God  is  everywhere,  as  you  believe,  He 
will  very  likely  be  at  that  meeting;  and  I  think  you  can 
trust  Him  to  take  care  of  Father  and  me — for  a  few  hours, 
anyway." 

58 


59 

They  started  after  an  early  supper,  as  the  ride  was 
long  and  the  hour  of  the  meeting  half  past  seven.  The 
sleigh-bells  jingled  musically  as  they  went  over  the  white 
road ;  and  the  full  moon,  rising  in  the  eastern  sky,  cast 
long  shadows  from  the  skeleton  arms  of  the  trees  which 
seemed  to  reach  for  the  travellers  with  bony,  wavering 
fingers.  The  old  man  moved  restlessly  in  his  seat;  he  was 
more  excited  and  alert  than  Jesse  had  ever  seen  him.  As 
they  turned  the  last  corner,  a  few  rods  from  their  desti- 
nation, he  laid  his  hand  on  Jesse's  arm. 

"  You  won't  be  scared,  will  you,  if  you  see  your  grand- 
father? I  saw  him  once,  at  a  seance  this  same  medium 
gave  last  fall.  But  you  mustn't  tell  your  mother,  and  you 
mustn't  be  scared  yourself,  no  matter  what  you  see." 

"Why  shouldn't  I  tell  my  mother?" 

"  Because  she's  afraid  now  to  go  up-garret  after  dark. 
I  don't  see  why  folks  should  be  any  more  afraid  of  friends 
after  they're  dead  than  they  were  of  'em  alive." 

"  And  do  you  really  believe,"  Jesse  asked,  "  that  you 
saw  the  spirit  of  my  grandfather?" 

"  I  do,"  declared  the  old  man,  with  conviction.  "  He 
shook  hands  with  me,  and  one  of  his  thumbs  was  gone,  just 
as  I  remember  him  when  I  was  a  boy.  And  he  told  me 
things  nobody  knows  but  him  and  me." 

Jesse  made  no  answer,  and  they  drove  into  the  yard. 
Half  a  dozen  sleighs  were  there  before  them;  half  a  dozen 
horses  stood,  well-blanketed,  facing  the  east,  watching  the 
moon  with  vague  and  wandering  eyes.  The  Bethels  hitched 
their  horse  to  the  fence  beside  the  others,  then  went  to- 
gether into  the  house. 

In  the  large  sitting-room  nearly  a  score  of  persons  were 
assembled;  some  of  them  were  young,  some  middle-aged, 
some  old.  Among  them  were  Thomas  Taylor  and  the 
hard-faced  woman,  his  housekeeper.  In  spiritualistic  cir- 
cles she  was  more  at  home  than  among  the  stern  moralists 
of  Nashburgh. 

There  was  a  large  coal-stove  in  the  room,  the  ceiling 
was  low  and  the  air  stifling.  The  men  and  women  chatted 
together  about  indifferent  things;  there  was  nothing 
awe-inspiring  in  this  little  group  of  commonplace  persons, 
met  together  to  question  the  insoluble  mystery  of  life  and 


60  THE   SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

death.  A  fat  woman  in  black  at  the  other  end  of  the  room 
laughed  much;  she  was  the  medium.  Two  others  came  in 
after  Jesse  and  his  father,  acquaintances  of  theirs,  and  the 
four  men  nodded  to  each  other  and  talked  about  the 
weather.  After  awhile  the  fat  medium  arose  and  left  the 
room. 

"  It's  half  past  seven,"  said  the  man  of  the  house,  a 
grizzled  farmer  of  middle-age.  "  Wonder  if  any  more'll 
come." 

"  Better  wait  a  few  minutes,"  advised  Thomas  Taylor, 
and  his  housekeeper  echoed :  "  Yes,  better  wait  a  'few 
minutes." 

They  talked  less  after  the  medium  went  out,  and  slowly 
the  hands  of  the  old  clock  on  the  mantel  moved  up  to  a 
quarter  of  eight. 

"  She's  coming  now,"  said  a  muffled  voice  behind  Jesse, 
and  the  medium  re-entered  the  room.  She  walked  heavily, 
as  in  a  kind  of  haze,  and  another  voice  said: 

"  She's  going  to  the  cabinet." 

The  cabinet  was  a  small  structure  in  one  corner,  covered 
with  white  sheets.  As  the  medium  disappeared  between  the 
curtains,  the  grizzled  man  of  the  house  closed  and  locked 
the  door  of  the  room. 

"  Now,  friends,"  he  said,  "  all  of  you  set  around  in  a 
circle  and  take  hold  of  hands.  I'm  going  to  set  here,  next 
the  cabinet." 

When  they  were  all  arranged  to  his  satisfaction,  he  said 
to  a  tall  girl,  his  daughter,  "  Mandy,  play  something  on 
the  organ." 

Then  he  explained  to  the  assembled  company:  "  That's 
to  get  the  room  harmonious,  so's  the  spirits  can  work 
better." 

The  girl  left  her  place  in  the  circle  and  went  to  the 
cottage-organ,  a  cheap  and  wheezy  instrument,  and  played 
"  Home,  Sweet  Home."  When  she  was  through  playing 
and  had  returned  to  her  seat,  her  father  leaned  over  and 
blew  out  the  lamp  which  stood  on  the  table  behind 
him.  There  was  a  dead  silence  for  some  minutes.  Jesse 
could  hear  his  own  heart  beat,  though  it  beat  regularly 
and  no  faster  than  usual.  He  was  not  in  the  least 
nervous. 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL  61 

Then  there  was  a  rustling  sound  from  somewhere,  and 
a  thin,  high  voice  cut  the  stillness: 

"  Good  evening,  friends,"  it  said,  "  I'm  glad  to  be  with 
you.  Yes,  it's  little  Bright-eyes.  Oh — h-h-h!  What  a 
beautiful  light  .  .  .  right  there,  in  the  east!  It 
twinkles  and  twinkles,  just  like  a  star.  And  it  moves.  .  . 
Oh-h-h!  It's  stopped  now;  it  stands  right  there.  See! 
see!" 

They  strained  their  eyes  through  the  darkness,  and  saw 
— or  thought  they  saw — a  bright  light,  a  twinkling  light, 
on  the  east  side  of  the  room.  Jesse  saw  it  also,  though  as 
he  was  sitting  on  the  east  side  of  the  room,  he  had  to 
raise  his  eyes  toward  the  ceiling. 

"  Yes,  Bright-eyes,  we  see  it,"  said  a  deep  voice.  "  But 
what  does  it  mean  ?  " 

"  It  means — But  I'm  only  a  little  Indian  girl,  I  don't 
know  what  it  means.  It  has  too  big  a  meaning  for  me. 
Oh-h-h !  "  The  voice  sank  to  a  shrill  whisper,  then  rose 
again.  "  I  think  it  has  something  to  do  with  that  young 
man  there,  the  one  right  under  it." 

"  Do  you  mean  me  ?  "  asked  Jesse,  as  he  seemed  to  be 
right  under  the  strange  light. 

"  Yes,  you,  you,"  answered  the  voice,  excitedly.  "  Oh, 
but  you're  a  strange  young  man!  I  don't  think  I  under- 
stand— no,  no — I  won't "  The  voice  shrilled,  faltered, 

and  was  gone. 

"  Strange !  "  said  a  man  beside  Jesse.  "  She's  never  be- 
haved like  that  before." 

"Hush-sh!      Here's   another,"    someone   said. 

Again  came  that  peculiar  rustling  sound,  and  then  a 
second  seemingly  supernatural  voice  was  heard.  It  was 
a  bass  voice  this  time,  but  muffled,  as  if  it  spoke  through 
layers  of  wool: 

"  Good  evening,  %  all.  Yes,  it's  Doctor  Ebenezer.  How. 
do  you  do?  What  was  the  matter  with  Bright-eyes?  She 
came  back  to  us  with  such  a  queer  expression  on  her  little 
copper  face.  She  must  have  seen  something.  .  .  . 
What's  that?  .  .  .  No,  it  can't  be!  ...  In 
nomine  Patns,  et  Filii,  et  Spiritus  sancti  .  „  .  Spiritus 
sancti  .  .  ." 

Then  silence.     The  second  voice,  or  spirit,,  or  whatever 


62  THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

it  might  be,  was  also  gone.  Not  a  soul  in  the  room  could 
have  told  the  exact  meaning  of  the  Latin  words,  though 
they  had  a  familiar  sound  to  some  of  them.  No  one  dared 
to  speak;  they  all  sat,  staring  into  the  darkness.  Then 
came  strains  of  music,  soft  thrilling  strains,  like  those  of  a 
guitar;  and  here  and  there  about  the  room  innumerable 
little  lights  flashed  for  a  second  and  went  out  again.  A 
voice  like  that  of  a  child  began  to  sing  in  a  language  no 
one  understood — only  a  line  or  two,  then  it  also  sank  to 
silence. 

In  the  unnatural  stillness  one  or  two  persons  caught 
their  breath  with  a  quick  sigh  which  sounded  loud  as  a 
sob,  so  tense  was  the  atmosphere  of  expectation.  Then 
came  the  vibration  of  a  heavy  body  moving  along  the  floor: 
the  medium  was  coming  out  of  the  cabinet.  They  heard 
her  voice,  almost  but  not  quite  a  natural  tone: 

"  It's  only  me,  sit  still.  There's  something  here  which 
seems  to  send  the  spirits  all  back.  I'll  try  to  tell  you 
what  it  is,  if  you'll  be  quiet." 

There  was  another  silence,  of  perhaps  a  minute,  and 
then  the  voice  of  the  medium  again,  speaking  this  time  in 
a  natural  tone. 

"  There's  a  very  beautiful  person  here.  In  the  darkness 
I  see  your  souls  instead  of  your  bodies,  but  this  person's 
body  and  soul  both  are  beautiful.  The  spirits  say  that  your 
spirit — you  there  toward  the  east  I'm  talking  to — that 
your  spirit  has  been  the  master  of  millions  of  theirs,  and 
will  be  again,  as  soon  as  it's  freed  from  the  body.  Oh,  but 
you  have  a  hard  work  to  do  in  the  world!  Yet  you  will 
be  strong  enough  to  do  it.  I'm  talking  to  that  young  man 
over  there.  Do  you  understand  what  I  say  ?  " 

"  I  understand,"  Jesse  answered. 

The  medium  then  said  she  could  do  nothing  more  that 
night ;  there  were  no  materialisations  nor  attempts  at  materi- 
alisations; the  lamp  was  relighted,  and  the  seance  broke  up. 

As  they  were  driving  home  across  the  moonlit  snow,  the 
father  said  to  Jesse:  "  I  wish  you'd  tell  me  wha*  that  was 
all  about — if  you  know  yourself." 

"  Father,"  he  replied,  "  I  don't  want  to  talk  about  it 
now.  I  know  what  that  woman  meant;  but  I  don't  know 
how  she  could  possibly  herself  have  any  knowledge  of  the 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL  63 

matter.  I  must  study  it  all  out.  Until  I  do,  please  don't 
speak  to  me  about  it;  and,  above  all,  don't  mention  it  to 
Mother." 

The  father  was  silent  for  a  time,  and  then  he  said: 
"  You're  a  strange  boy,  Jesse.  You  have  always  puzzled 
me,  yes,  ever  since  you  were  a  baby.  But  if  it's  really 
true  that  you're  going  to  do  some  great  work  in  the  world, 
something  too  big  for  a  man  like  me  to  understand,  I  give 
you  my  blessing,  boy.  And  whatever  you  are,  or  what- 
ever you're  going  to  be,  your  old  father's  blessing  can't 
help  but  do  you  good." 

"  Oh,  Father,  I  thank  you ! "  Jesse  answered,  his  voice 
unsteady  with  emotion. 

That  night,  as  he  lingered  in  the  region  of  inner  light 
and  elusive  forms  which  the  consciousness  always  passes 
through  on  the  way  to  the  region  of  sleep  which  lies  im- 
mediately beyond,  he  was  startled  and  thrown  back  again, 
wide  awake,  by  the  sound  of  his  own  voice,  saying  with  un- 
mistakable distinctness : 

"  God  is  the  Power,  and  I  am  the  expression  of  the 
Power," 

He  sat  up  in  bed  and  looked  around  in  the  darkness. 
Had  he  been  dreaming?  Or  had  his  lips  been  merely  pas- 
sive instruments  for  the  delivery  of  a  message  from  his 
inner  to  his  outer  self?  He  repeated  the  words,  his  heart 
beating  wildly  with  the  realisation  of  their  significance  in 
the  development  of  his  thought:  "  God  is  the  Power,  and 
I  am  the  expression  of  the  Power." 

Why,  here  was  the  answer  to  the  first  two  of  his  four 
great  questions:  "What  is  God?"  and  "What  am  I?" 
In  the  consideration  of  this  strange  midnight  message  from 
the  Unknown,  his  imagination  caught  fire.  He  realised 
himself  as  the  expression  of  the  Power  of  God,  as  the 
hand  which  could  move  the  lever  of  the  divine  engine,  as 
the  eye  which  pierced  the  fog  of  the  world's  future,  as  the 
form  of  the  unimaginable  Word. 


CHAPTER  X 

IN  the  month  of  June,  a  year  and  a  half  later,  the  father 
of  Jesse  went  out  to  investigate  for  himself  the  mystery 
beyond  the  door  of  death.  While  sitting  quietly  one  even- 
ing with  his  family,  he  fell  from  his  chair  to  the  floor;  and 
after  the  three  frightened  sons  had  carried  him  to  his  bed, 
their  hearts  were  torn  by  seeing  their  helpless  old  father 
in  the  grasp  of  violent  convulsions  which  seemed  to  be 
trying  to  tear  the  spirit  from  his  body. 

One  of  the  younger  boys  was  sent  to  summon  the  doctor, 
and  the  other  ran  to  a  neighbour's  house  for  assistance; 
while  Jesse  and  his  mother  removed  the  garments  from  the 
moveless  and  unconscious  man  and  laid  him  between  the 
sheets  of  the  wide  bed  in  which  Jesse  and  the  other  sons 
were  born. 

Stunned  by  the  unexpected  blow,  and  powerless  before 
this  experience  which  comes  to  every  soul  as  new,  and  yet 
is  old  as  life  itself,  Jesse  sat  and  gazed  upon  his  father's 
face.  His  mother  and  the  neighbour,  Mrs.  Smith,  moved 
quietly  about  the  room  from  time  to  time,  doing  those 
little  services  which  seem  so  necessary  in  the  hour  when 
the  grim  messenger  waits  outside  the  door,  and  which  are 
so  pathetically  futile  to  prevent  the  inevitable  entrance. 

When  the  doctor  came,  they  knew  by  his  manner  as 
he  crossed  the  threshold  that  he  brought  no  hope  to  them. 
He  only  asked  them  a  few  questions,  gave  some  simple  di- 
rections and  a  little  medicine. 

"  There  is  nothing  else  to  be  done,"  he  said,  in  that 
quiet  tone  which  doctors  use  when  they  realise  that  their 
skill  is  useless.  "  I  have  known  for  a  long  time  that  he 
would  finally  go  in  this  way ;  it  is  almost  always  so  with  his 
disease.  The  end  may  come  in  a  day,  perhaps;  there  will 
be  no  lingering,  at  his  age.  Do  not  be  alarmed  if  he  should 
have  another  convulsion,  but  let  us  hope  for  the  best.  I 
will  come  again  in  the  morning."  And  he  went  away. 

64 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL  65 

Jesse  and  his  mother  watched  together  in  silence  through 
the  long  night.  Toward  morning  the  boy  said: 

"  Mother,  do  you  think  he  knows  what  is  going  on 
around  him?  " 

"  No,  my  boy,  your  father  will  never  speak  to  you  again, 
will  never  know  if  you  should  speak  to  him.  I  asked  the 
doctor  at  the  outside  door  as  he  was  going  away,  and  he 
says  that  your  father  is  in  the  coma  that  precedes  death." 

The  coma  that  precedes  death!  Jesse  mentally  repeated 
the  words,  weighing  their  meaning.  Was  there  also  a  coma 
that  followed  death,  he  asked  himself,  or — and  here  his 
mind  moved  cautiously,  step  by  step — could  they  be  right, 
the  people  of  that  new  sect  whose  extraordinary  belief  in 
the  future  of  the  human  spirit  had  fascinated  the  man  who 
now  lay  helpless  here,  in  the  coma  that  precedes  death? 
He  could  not  determine,  by  any  process  of  reasoning  that 
was  satisfactory  to  his  mind,  what  would  be  the  immediate 
future  of  the  soul  which  waited  here  the  moment  of  its 
passing. 

He  looked  across  to  where  his  mother  sat  with  her  eyes 
closed,  her  lips  moving  in  prayer.  He  knew  the  questions 
troubling  her  simple  and  deeply  religious  mind.  Accord- 
ing to  the  tenet  she  believed  in,  the  soul  which  died  with- 
out accepting  God  would  never  taste  the  joys  of  the  here- 
after reserved  for  the  beloved  of  God.  And  his  father 
was  dying  without  that  acceptance.  How  would  it  be 
with  him  in  the  event  that  his  mother's  belief  were  true? 
But  was  it  true?  Somehow,  for  all  his  church  training,  he 
doubted  that  his  kind  old  father's  soul  was  going  to  the  tor- 
ment. Then  where  was  it  going?  Would  it  go  to  the 
God  who  had  no  existence  for  him,  the  God  in  whom  he 
had  no  faith?  That  would  be  as  if  a  son  who  denied  the 
paternity  of  his  father  should  yet  demand  inheritance  from 
that  father.  But,  even  so,  could  not  the  father  forgive,  if 
his  love  were  great  enough? 

Then  to  his  mind,  so  striving  to  perceive  a  glimmer  in 
the  darkness,  came  again  those  potent  words  which  he  had 
carried  in  vivid  remembrance  for  eighteen  months:  "  God 
is  the  Power,  and  I  am  the  expression  of  the  Power." 
Surely,  the  expression  of  the  Power  included  the  power  of 
forgiveness. 


66  THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

He  bowed  his  face  upon  the  helpless  hand  of  the  dying 
man,  and,  in  the  name  of  that  Power  of  which  he  was  the 
expression,  he  forgave  his  father's  unbelief. 

They  who  shall  deem  this  spiritual  act  of  faith  and  love 
a  baseless,  blasphemous  presumption,  should  remember  that 
the  ministers  of  the  most  powerful  church  on  earth  do  this 
thing  every  day.  Truly,  "  Perfect  love  casteth  out  fear," 
even  the  fear  of  seeming  presumption. 

The  next  day,  at  sunset,  the  father  of  Jesse  passed  from 
breathing  oblivion  into  that  deeper  and  breathless  sleep 
which  waits  for  every  man.  Two  days  later  he  was  buried 
in  the  little  graveyard  shaded  with  pine-trees,  where  three 
generations  of  the  Bethels  were  hidden  away  from  the  too 
inquisitive  eyes  of  the  sun  and  moon. 

During  the  two  days  when  the  body  lay  in  the  house, 
Jesse  had  moved  about  in  a  haze.  Not  until  they  came 
back  from  the  graveyard  after  the  burial  did  he  fully 
realise  that  his  father's  chair  was  empty,  his  father's  voice 
for  ever  silent.  It  all  seemed  so  incredible  that  he  still  half 
doubted  the  evidence  of  his  senses,  the  evidence  of  his  mem- 
ory of  the  last  three  days  and  nights.  Still  moving  in  that 
haze  which  sometimes  hangs  over  the  imaginative  minds 
of  the  young  in  times  of  grief  or  change,  Jesse  went  to  his 
bed  the  night  after  his  father's  funeral.  In  the  middle  of 
the  night  he  opened  his  eyes  in  the  darkness,  startled  wide 
awake  by  a  strange  dream. 

He  had  seemed  to  be  in  a  house  similar  to  the  one  in 
which  he  lived  with  his  family.  Several  women  sat  by  the 
window  sewing  on  garments  of  various  kinds,  some  plain, 
some  ornamental;  and  they  were  all  talking  together  of 
commonplace  things.  He  spoke  to  them  of  uncommon 
things,  of  beauty  and  aspiration;  but  they  only  stared  at 
him,  and  went  on  sewing  and  chattering. 

He  passed  out  into  a  field  where  men  were  making  hay. 
They  were  also  talking  together  of  small  and  sordid  mat- 
ters. He  spoke  to  them  of  large  pure  purposes,  of  faith 
and  social  destiny;  they  also  stared  at  him,  even  as  the 
women  had  done,  and  went  on  making  hay. 

Lonely  and  sad  at  heart,  he  turned  away  down  a  narrow 
lane  between  irregular  lines  of  ancient  trees.  Then,  look- 
ing up,  he  saw  standing  before  him  a  tall  figure  wrapped 


THE   SON   OF   MARY   BETHEL  67 

in  a  long  hooded  garment,  its  face  covered  by  a  veil.  It 
beckoned  him  to  follow. 

Walking  behind  this  figure,  he  passed  into  a  large  build- 
ing, like  a  church,  an  old  building;  but  instead  of  pews, 
the  floor  space  was  filled  with  cheap  modern  chairs  set 
regularly  in  rows.  Passing  down  the  middle  aisle,  they  as- 
cended the  stairs  before  the  altar,  and  turning  to  the  right, 
went  through  a  small  side-room  like  a  chapel,  and  out  by 
a  door  at  the  back. 

Here  everything  was  changed ;  here  was  the  side  of  a 
mountain,  steep  and  wooded.  The  air  was  pure  and  rather 
cold;  it  smelt  of  pines.  On  before  him  passed  the  tall 
figure,  and  Jesse  followed.  There  was  no  path,  though 
footprints  here  and  there  showed  that  the  way  had  been 
already  travelled  by  someone.  It  was  very  steep,  thick 
brush  impeded  his  progress,  rough  stones  cut  his  feet,  and 
brambles  tore  his  clothes.  Now  and  then  he  had  to  climb 
over  the  trunk  of  a  fallen  tree,  and  in  one  place  a  sheer 
cliff  rose,  up  which  he  worked  his  hard  way,  finding  a 
perilous  foothold  by  crevices  and  jagged  points  of  rock. 
This  cliff  surmounted,  he  came  to  a  small  level  space  a 
little  further  on,  and  here  the  guiding  figure  stopped  and 
waited  for  him.  They  were  still  only  on  the  side  of  the 
mountain,  but  the  summit  was  invisible,  lost  in  grey  cloud 
and  mist.  And  then  he  heard  a  voice  which  said: 

"  The  foot  of  mortal  can  ascend  no  further.  Look  up ! 
Behold  the  iron  face  of  the  Law,  on  which  no  man  may 
look  and  live." 

He  raised  his  eyes  to  the  zenith,  and  there  above  him  was 
the  awful  Face,  hard,  black,  shining  with  its  own  efful- 
gence; and  in  the  eyes,  which  were  as  balls  of  fire,  there 
was  no  pity  and  no  love,  only  implacable  judgment,  stern, 
forbidding.  He  gazed  and  gazed,  until  the  terror  of  the 
thing  drew  all  his  strength  away,  and  he  sank  backward 
on  the  ground,  still  gazing,  until  his  eyes  grew  dim 
and  merciful  unconsciousness  came  with  its  veil  to  cover 
him. 

Then  slowly  the  haze  of  his  weakness  passed  away.  And 
he  saw  again  the  iron  Face,  but  now  how  changed!  It 
smiled,  it  softened,  glowing  with  unearthly  beauty,  and  the 
eyes  were  tender  as  a  mother's  looking  on  the  loved  face 


68  THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

of  her  child.  Dizzy  with  ecstasy  he  closed  his  eyes,  and 
when  he  opened  them  again  the  Face  was  gone. 

He  rose  from  the  damp  ground  and  looked  about  him. 
The  tall  figure  of  the  guide  was  gone;  he  was  alone  on  the 
side  of  the  mountain,  and  the  wind  blew  cold  upon  him, 
keen  with  the  odour  of  pines. 

Down  the  mountain  again  he  went,  back  to  the  valley 
where  the  people  made  hay  and  sewed  their  garments  and 
talked  .of  sordid  things.  Passing  along  the  road,  he  was 
pointed  at  and  ridiculed,  for  the  sharp  rocks  and  brambles 
of  the  immortal  mountain  had  torn  his  clothes,  and  some- 
where on  the  way  he  had  lost  both  his  shoes.  He  was 
footsore  and  weary,  and  knew  not  where  to  go. 

That  was  the  end  of  the  dream,  and  he  had  opened  his 
eyes  in  the  darkness,  startled  wide  awake  by  the  strangeness 
of  it. 

On  the  following  night  he  had  another  dream. 

He  seemed  to  be  wading  in  snow,  making  his  way  slowly 
up  a  long  hill  toward  the  small  back-door  of  a  great  build- 
ing. A  strong  and  icy  wind  blew  in  his  face,  and  now 
and  then  he  stumbled  in  the  deep  drifts,  falling,  only  to 
pick  himself  up  again  and  struggle  on  and  upward.  When 
after  a  long  time  he  reached  the  door,  someone  standing 
there  said,  "  You  are  waited  for."  But  no  one  opened 
the  door.  He  shook  it,  he  beat  his  hands  upon  it;  but  no 
answer  came  from  the  inside.  Finally  he  threw  himself 
against  the  door  with  all  his  force,  and  it  gave  way  before 
him;  but  the  room  in  which  he  found  himself  was  empty. 
It  was  a  large  room  with  a  waxed  and  shining  floor,  a 
ball-room,  and  at  one  end  were  the  chairs  and  musical  in- 
struments of  an  orchestra;  but  the  musicians  were  not 
there,  the  chairs  were  empty. 

Passing  on  into  another  large  room  at  the  right,  he  saw 
a  table  dressed  as  for  a  banquet;  but  no  man  was  there. 
At  the  side  of  this  room  and  on  the  front  of  the  building 
was  a  great  doorway.  He  went  through  it  and  stood 
again  in  the  open  air,  at  the  top  of  a  wide  flight  of  marble 
steps.  On  this  side  of  the  building  it  was  summer:  before 
him  lay  a  garden,  with  trees  and  flowers  and  winding 
walks.  Slowly  he  descended  the  broad  stairs;  they  were 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL  69 

covered  from  top  to  bottom  with  a  crimson  carpet  which 
clung  to  his  feet  at  every  step,  clung  so  tenaciously  that 
he  had  to  shake  it  off  as  he  stood  upon  each  stair  before  he 
could  pass  down  to  the  next  one. 

When  he  reached  the  ground,  he  turned  to  the  right  and 
found  himself  near  a  little  company  of  gay  people  who 
laughed  and  chatted  together  under  the  shade  of  a  tree. 
They  glanced  at  him  indifferently,  but  paid  no  further  at- 
tention. He  was  lonely,  and  yearned  for  the  company  of 
these  graceful  and  well-dressed  men  and  women  who 
seemed  to  have  so  little  need  of  him. 

But  he  passed  around  them  and  stood  before  the  other 
half  of  the  wide  building's  front,  for  only  half  of  it  was 
taken  up  by  the  red-carpeted  steps  down  which  he  had 
come  to  the  garden.  He  found  himself  facing  the  other 
half  of  the  building's  front — but  how  strangely  it  was  built! 
Parallel  with  the  marble  steps,  and  under  the  eastern  half 
of  the  wide  portico,  the  wall  fell  sheer  to  the  ground,  some 
forty  feet.  But,  instead  of  a  wall  of  stone,  it  was  a  cor- 
rugated wall  of  dark  stained  leather,  padded  in  ridges  large 
as  pillows — great  rolls,  lying  one  above  another,  each  roll 
corresponding  to  a  step  in  the  adjacent  stairway. 

Slowly  it  dawned  upon  his  consciousness  that  he  must 
climb  this  ladder  of  slippery  leather  rolls;  that  he  must 
reach  the  top  and  stand  in  the  portico  above  the  highest 
branch  of  the  tree  in  whose  cool  shade  the  careless  people 
prattled  on,  indifferent  to  his  presence.  And  he  began 
to  climb.  There  was  no  foothold  save  in  the  folds  between 
the  hard  and  slippery  leather  cushions;  there  was  nothing 
for  his  hands  to  grasp  except  the  slippery  cushions  straight 
above  his  head.  Slowly,  with  beating  heart  and  aching 
limbs,  he  made  his  hard  way  upward.  He  had  forgotten 
there  was  anyone  below  that  watched  him;  he  was  only 
conscious  of  the  height  he  struggled  toward,  the  end  to  be 
achieved,  the  difficult  and  perilous  ascent. 

At  last  he  gained  the  level  marble  slab  above  the  high- 
est rung  of  the  rolling  ladder;  at  last  he  stood  up  straight 
and  drew  a  long  breath.  A  great  joy  rilled  his  soul. 
Glancing  down,  he  saw  the  men  and  women  under  the 
tree  whom  he  had  forgotten.  They  were  now  looking  up 
at  him  with  wide  eyes  of  amazement,  and  their  faces  were 


70  THE   SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

alight  with  enthusiasm.  Then  they  raised  their  arms  to 
him  in  supplication ;  they  yearned  to  him  with  tears  of  ador- 
ing love. 

And  he  awoke. 

Again,   on  the  third   night,   he  had  yet  another  dream. 

He  seemed  to  be  lying  in  a  place  he  knew  near  the  sum- 
mit of  old  Thunder  Mountain.  It  was  the  hour  of  dawn, 
and  the  air  was  musical  with  the  voices  of  awakening  birds. 
Lying  there,  still  with  happiness,  he  saw  again  before  him 
the  veiled  figure  of  his  first  strange  dream,  the  one  who  had 
led  him  up  the  mountain  and  shown  him  the  two  visions 
of  the  dual  face  of  the  Law. 

The  presence  now  spoke  to  him,  saying:  "  Faith  in  the 
Higher  shall  give  to  the  lower  all  the  powers  of  both." 

He  rose  to  his  feet,  and  bowing  low  to  the  ethereal  vis- 
itor, asked  that  he  might  behold  its  face. 

Then,  without  a  word,  the  presence  drew  aside  its  veil 
and  stood  revealed  before  the  startled  dreamer. 

The  eyes  which  looked  into  Jesse's  were  his  own  eyes, 
the  face  he  saw  was  his  own  face — his  own,  and  yet  how 
different!  Had  the  morning  taken  human  form  and  ap- 
peared before  him,  it  could  not  have  been  more  beautiful 
than  this  unearthly  semblance  of  his  earthly  self. 

Again  the  presence  spoke  to  him,  saying:  "  I  am  the 
Higher,  and  you  are  the  lower;  but  we  are  one." 

Filled  with  wonder,  he  awoke.  It  was  really  the  hour 
of  dawn,  as  in  the  dream.  He  arose  and  crossed  the  room 
to  a  mirror  which  hung  on  the  wall,  that  he  might  look 
again  into  his  own  eyes,  as  he  had  done  in  the  dream. 
The  mirror  faced  the  uncurtained  eastern  window;  and  as 
he  stood  there,  the  sun  came  up  over  the  top  of  the  blue 
mountain  and  was  reflected  behind  him  in  the  glass,  like  a 
halo  around  his  hair.  And  from  that  hour  he  knew  with 
an  absolute  knowledge  that  he  was  one  of  those  who  have 
to  walk  alone  in  the  waste  places  of  the  world,  who 
walk  alone  though  multitudes  surround  them;  that  he 
was  one  whom  the  iron-visaged  Law  had  chosen  for  its 
minister  and  interpreter.  And  as  he  was  young  and  full 
of  the  love  of  life,  the  knowledge  was  a  burden  of  joy  and 
pain  almost  too  heavy  to  be  borne. 


CHAPTER   XI 

BEING  the  eldest  son  of  a  widowed  mother,  Jesse  had 
now  to  face  the  question  of  the  material  welfare  of  the 
family.  His  father's  little  farm  was  mortgaged  for  about 
half  its  small  value.  His  two  younger  brothers,  one  fifteen 
years  of  age  and  one  sixteen,  could  not  be  depended  on  to 
give  him  any  substantial  help  for  a  time,  at  least;  so  upon 
his  shoulders  lay  the  responsibility  of  providing  for  his 
mother,  and  of  so  guiding  the  course  of  the  younger  boys 
that  they  should  become  self-supporting  and  helpful  in  their 
turn. 

On  the  fourth  morning  after  the  funeral  he  called  a 
family  council.  They  sat  around  the  square  dinner-table 
in  the  old  kitchen,  the  mother  and  the  three  boys.  Jesse 
had  now  taken  the  foot  of  the  table  and  sat  in  the  chair 
left  vacant  by  the  father;  Fred  sat  on  Jesse's  right  and 
Henry  on  his  left,  and  Mary  Bethel  sat  opposite  Jesse.  He 
had  brought  pencil  and  paper,  his  father's  old  account 
book  and  the  little  black  tin  box  from  the  top  shelf  of  the 
parlour  closet,  in  which  the  father  had  kept  his  business 
papers  for  forty  years  and  more.  When  they  were  seated, 
Jesse  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  Mother,"  he  said,  "  and  you  also,  Fred  and  Henry, 
I  think  we  should  now  talk  over  together  the  questions 
of  the  future.  We  know  that  Father  died  heavily  in  debt, 
and  we  may  take  it  for  granted  that  Taylor  is  going  to 
make  it  as  hard  as  he  can  for  us  in  the  matter  of  the 
mortgage.  I  had  a  talk  yesterday  with  Olin  Madison,  and 
I  think  we  should  ask  him  to  be  administrator  of  the  es- 
tate. My  first  idea  was  that  Mother  should  be  administra- 
trix, in  order  to  save  the  fees;  but  I  think,  on  account  of 
Taylor,  that  we  should  have  a  man  who  knows  more  about 
such  business  than  we  do." 

"Oh,  yes!"  exclaimed  the  mother.  "I'm  sure  Mr. 
Madison  will  not  charge  us  much,  and  I  know  nothing 
whatever  of  business." 

"  There's  a  legal  fee,"  said  Jesse,  "  which  he  will  prob- 


72  THE   SON    OF  MARY   BETHEL 

ably  accept.  It  will  not  be  much,  so  let  us  call  that  settled. 
And  now  I  want  to  tell  you  about  a  talk  I  had  with  Father 
the  summer  we  built  the  schoolhouse.  He  made  me  prom- 
ise that  when  he  died  we  would  sell  this  place,  pay  off  the 
mortgage,  and  leave  Nashburgh." 

His  mother  gasped.  "  Leave  Nashburgh !  Oh,  Jesse ! 
And  where  would  we  go?  " 

"  That  we  have  to  decide.  Father  said  I  would  never 
be  able  to  make  enough  at  my  trade  to  support  us,  and  keep 
up  the  mortgage  interest,  if  we  should  stay  in  this  dull 
place.  He  made  me  promise,  Mother.  He  wouldn't  talk 
with  you  about  it,  because  he  knew  how  you  worried  over 
things.  Mr.  Smith  has  a  note  of  Father's  for  a  hundred 
dollars  which  he  never  mentioned  to  you,  and  there  are 
other  debts." 

The  mother's  eyes  were  swimming  in  tears.  "  If  we  leave 
here,"  she  said,  "  we  won't  have  any  home  at  all.  How 
shall  we  live,  Jesse?  " 

He  leaned  across  the  table  and  clasped  the  hand  which 
she  held  out  to  him.  "  Mother,  dearest,"  he  said,  "  we 
will  rent  a  little  house  in  some  village  where  I  can  get 
carpentry  work,  and  maybe  the  boys  can  take  care  of  a 
small  market-garden  before  and  after  school  hours." 

"  You  want  them  to  keep  on  going  to  school  ?  "  asked 
the  mother,  in  surprise.  "  Why,  Jesse,  you  yourself  haven't 
been  to  school  since  the  winter  you  were  fourteen !  " 

"Yes,  Mother,  but  I  am  different.  I  study  all  the  time 
when  I'm  not  working;  I  read  and  study  all  the  time.  It 
isn't  necessary  that  I  should  go  to  school.  But  the  boys 
ought  to  be  taught  a  little  while  longer,  because  they  can't 
teach  themselves." 

"  I  don't  go  to  any  village  school,"  declared  Fred,  the 
second  boy.  "  They'd  only  point  me  out  as  a  gawk  and 
a  know-nothing.  I'm  sixteen  years  old  now,  and  I'm  going 
to  work  with  Jesse.  Let  Henry  go  to  school." 

So  that  point  also  was  settled. 

"And  what  shall  I  do  to  earn  money?"  Mary  asked, 
the  thought  of  being  a  burden  to  her  boys  making  her 
heart  heavy. 

"  You  will  keep  house  for  us,"  Jesse  answered  quickly. 
"  We  couldn't  afford  to  pay  our  board  anywhere ;  but  if 


THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL  73 

we  have  a  little  garden  and  keep  one  of  the  cows,  we  can 
live  very  economically,  and  still  have  a  home  together. 
You  will  do  more  than  your  share,  Mother,  if  you  look 
after  the  house." 

"  I'm  going  to  learn  to  be  a  carpenter,"  said  Fred,  "  then 
there'll  be  two  of  us  earning  money.  Oh,  we'll  be  all 
right!  Now  don't  you  worry,  Mother,  any  more." 

"And  I'll  go  to  school  another  year,  and  take  care  of 
the  garden  and  the  cow,"  said  Henry.  "  Yes,  we  shall  be 
all  right." 

"But  where  shall  we  go?"  was  the  mother's  trembling 
question.  "  Where  shall  we  find  a  home  ?  " 

Jesse  drew  a  deep  breath.  He  looked  from  his  mother 
to  the  boys,  then  back  again  to  his  mother.  Then  he  said 
— the  memory  of  his  childhood's  wish  still  vivid  in  his 
mind: 

"  We  will  go  over  the  mountain  to  Myra." 

The  details  of  settling  the  estate  and  disposing  of  the 
farm  dragged  over  several  months.  As  Jesse  had  an- 
ticipated, Thomas  Taylor  made  them  as  much  trouble  as 
he  could  about  the  mortgage;  but  Olin  Madison,  the 
friendly  administrator,  so  managed  the  whole  business  that 
they  were  sure  of  having  a  little  money  in  the  end.  Mean- 
while Jesse  looked  about  him  for  a  chance  to  earn  some- 
thing during  the  final  weeks  of  their  stay  in  Nashburgh. 
Thus  it  happened  that  he  again  saw  Mary  Magnus  of 
Vergennes. 

A  builder  of  that  city  had  advertised  for  carpenters  in 
a  Burlington  paper,  and  Jesse  had  gone  up  to  Vergennes 
to  apply  in  person  for  work.  Though  the  builder  wanted 
older  and  more  skilled  men  than  Jesse,  he  took  a  fancy  to 
the  young  man  and  hired  him  at  sight.  Before  Jesse  had 
been  half  a  day  employed,  he  discovered  that  there  were 
many  matters  of  detail  about  the  trade  of  carpentry  which 
his  old-fashioned  father  had  not  taught  him.  These  de- 
tails he  set  himself  to  master  with  the  same  persistency  he 
exercised  in  the  pursuit  of  all  his  objects:  from  the  knowl- 
edge that  is  hidden  away  in  books,  to  that  experience  in  the 
handling  of  material  things  which  fits  a  man  to  struggle 
with  and  conquer  his  physical  environment. 


74  THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

Being  so  occupied,  it  was  nearly  a  week  before  he  re- 
membered that  Mary  Magnus  lived  somewhere  in  Ver- 
gennes,  and  that  he  had  promised  her  three  years  before 
that  if  he  should  ever  be  in  her  city  he  would  go  to  see 
her.  His  employer,  to  whom  he  applied  for  direction  to 
the  house  of  the  Magnus  family,  was  much  impressed  by 
the  fact  that  his  handsome  young  workman  was  on  terms 
of  friendship  with  the  daughter  of  the  richest  man  in  the 
city. 

"  Well,  well !  "  the  old  fellow  exclaimed,  scratching  his 
grizzled  head  and  looking  at  Jesse  out  of  the  corner  of  his 
shrewd  blue  eyes.  "  So  you  know  Mary  Magnus?  And 
you  mean  to  go  and  call  on  her?  Well,  I'll  be  blessed! 
She's  the  handsomest  and  proudest  girl  in  Vergennes,  and 
hardly  a  young  fellow  here  is  elegant  enough  to  suit  her 
taste.  Why,  folks  say  the  inside  of  their  house  is  like  a 
palace,  with  rugs  from  Turkey,  and  china  from  France,  and 
pictures  from  all  over.  Mary  is  seventeen  or  eighteen  now, 
I  reckon;  and  already  there's  a  string  of  fellows  after 
her  from  New  York  to  Montreal,  and  I  dunno  but  from 
farther  off  than  that.  Say,  boy,  I  like  you,  you  know,  and 
I'll  give  you  an  old  man's  advice:  be  mighty  sure  she 
wants  you  to  come,  before  you  go  to  call  on  Mary  Mag- 
nus." 

"  She  asked  me  to  come  and  see  her,"  said  Jesse  simply, 
"  and  I  shall  go  this  evening." 

"  Good  luck  to  you,  then !  Heaven  knows  you're  good- 
looking  enough  to  turn  the  head  of  any  giddy  girl." 

"Do  they  call  Mary  Magnus  a  giddy  girl?"  asked 
Jesse. 

"  Oh,  yes!  She's  wild  as  a  hawk,  for  all  her  pride  and 
her  money.  But  she  has  a  good  heart,  though,  a  kind 
heart.  There's  many  a  poor  child  in  Vergennes  that's 
walking  around  in  shoes  bought  out  of  Mary  Magnus's 
pocket-money." 

Jesse's  heart  swelled.  She  was  good,  then,  as  well  as 
beautiful,  this  little  friend  of  his.  He  was  not  much  im- 
pressed by  the  old  builder's  warning  of  the  elegance  in  the 
house  of  Magnus.  Mary  was  simply  Mary,  whether  she 
lived  in  a  palace  or  in  a  cabin;  of  that  he  felt  quite  sure. 
Her  manners  in  Nashburgh  had  been  charming.  He  did 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL  75 

not  know  enough  of  life  to  realise  where  a  subtle  differ- 
ence might  lie  between  Mary  in  Nashburgh  and  Mary  in 
Vergennes;  and  so  great  was  the  charm  of  his  personality, 
and  so  great  the  power  and  dignity  of  his  growing  soul, 
that  he  was  really  never  to  know  that  difference. 

He  went  to  see  her  that  evening.  Imposing  the  outside 
of  the  house  certainly  was,  judged  by  Vermont  standards 
of  comparison.  And  when  Jesse,  having  given  his  name 
to  the  maid  who  answered  his  ring,  was  ushered  into  the 
house,  he  found  himself  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  in  a 
really  beautiful  room.  Subdued  in  colour  and  harmonious  in 
every  part,  the  room  made  on  him  an  impression  of  pleasure 
which  he  did  not  analyse,  a  quiet  pleasure,  yet  different 
from  that  he  found  in  the  woods  or  under  the  stars.  He 
did  not  examine  the  room  in  detail;  but  he  saw  a  grand 
piano,  strange  soft-toned  rugs,  and  outlined  in  vivid  relief 
against  a  dark  curtain  at  the  back  a  marble  head  and 
shoulders  which  gave  him  a  new  feeling  of  enjoyment.  He 
did  not  know  that  it  was  a  copy  of  the  Hermes  of 
Praxiteles;  it  simply  made  on  him  an  impression  of  har- 
monious being. 

Up-stairs  in  her  own  room,  Mary  Magnus  sat  reading 
a  novel  when  Jesse's  name  was  announced  by  the  maid: 
"  Jesse  Bethel,  of  Nashburgh."  Yes,  she  would  be  down 
in  a  moment.  The  maid  went  away,  and  Mary  crossed 
the  room  to  the  cheval-glass  to  smooth  her  hair.  What 
was  he  like,  she  wondered,  after  three  years  of  growth? 
Why,  he  was  eighteen  now,  really  a  man!  She  remem- 
bered vividly  his  appearance  at  fifteen,  as  she  saw  him  last 
in  Nashburgh,  at  the  croquet-party  given  by  the  eccentric 
woman  with  the  two  stolid  sons — she  had  forgotten  the 
name.  Would  he  find  her  much  changed?  Then  she 
smiled,  the  smile  of  conscious  beauty  which  is  never  in 
doubt  of  its  own  power  over  the  eyes  of  others.  The  rose- 
coloured  gown  she  wore  was  becoming,  lending  a  little  of 
its  brighter  tone  to  the  soft  rose-colour  of  her  cheeks,  and 
subtly  calling  attention  to  the  darkness  of  her  hair  and 
eyes. 

She  went  down  the  broad  stairs  and  paused  for  a  mo- 
ment in  the  door  of  the  drawing-room.  He  was  standing 
by  the  mantel  opposite,  tall,  slender,  beautiful  in  his  simple 


76  THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

dark  blue  garments;  the  same  Jesse  she  had  known  before, 
but  magnified  by  the  magic  of  manhood.  The  slight  beard, 
allowed  to  grow  naturally,  made  him  seem  older  than  he 
really  was. 

They  stood  for  a  second  looking  at  each  other;  then 
both  put  out  their  hands,  and  they  met  in  the  centre  of  the 
room. 

'  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,  Jesse! " 

'  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,  Mary!  " 

'When   did  you  come  to  the  city?" 

'  About  a  week  ago." 

'  So  long  ?  And  you  have  not  been  to  see  me  till  to- 
night!" 

"I  have  been  busy;  I  know  you  will  pardon  me." 

She  led  the  way  to  a  little  sofa,  and  they  sat  down  to- 
gether. 

"  Tell  me  what  you're  doing  in  Vergennes,"  she  said. 

"  I'm  working  for  Peter  Mack,  the  builder." 

"Working?     At  what?" 

"Carpentry;  I  learned  my  father's  trade." 

"  And  you  are  a  carpenter  ?  How  strange — how  strange 
and  interesting!  "  She  looked  at  him  with  a  curious  smile, 
which  he  could  not  have  interpreted. 

"  Yes,  I  find  it  interesting,"  he  answered.  "  And  what 
are  you  doing,  Mary?  " 

"I'm  keeping  rather  quiet  this  summer.  Mother  is  not 
well,  and  we're  not  having  any  company.  She  isn't  dan- 
gerously ill,  but  too  much  exhausted  to  go  anywhere,  and 
very  nervous.  Maybe  we  will  take  her  to  California  for 
the  winter,  if  she  is  well  enough  to  travel.  I  wanted  to  go 
to  Egypt;  but  our  New  York  doctor,  who  was  here  last 
week,  says  that  California  is  best  for  Mother.  Father 
doesn't  want  to  leave  the  bank  this  year  for  such  a  long 
time,  so  Mother  and  I  will  go  alone,  with  a  nurse,  and 
maybe  with  a  young  doctor  here  whom  Mother  has  taken 
a  fancy  to.  Were  you  ever  in  California  ?  " 

He  smiled.  "  I've  never  been  anywhere,  Mary.  But 
in  the  fall  we  are  going  to  leave  Nashburgh.  My  father 
died  in  June." 

"Oh,  Jesse,  I'm  so  sorry!  "  There  were  quick  tears  in 
her  eyes. 


THE    SON   OF   MARY   BETHEL  77 

"  We  are  going  to  sell  the  farm  and  go  over  the  moun- 
tain," he  went  on.  "  I  can  get  work  over  there,  and  there's 
no  work  in  Nashburgh." 

"And  you  are  going  to  work  at  carpentry  to  support 
your  mother  and  brothers?  " 

"  Yes.     Fred  will  be  able  to  help  me  a  little,  perhaps." 

"Jesse,  how  great  you  are!"  She  looked  at  him  with 
eyes  full  of  admiration.  "  How  wonderful  you  are!  " 

He  was  puzzled  by  her  enthusiasm.  "  Is  there  anything 
wonderful  in  a  young  man's  taking  care  of  his  mother?  " 
he  asked. 

"  I  suppose  not,"  she  replied ;  "  but  all  the  young  men 
of  your  age  whom  I  know  are  a  heavy  expense  to  their 
parents,  always  getting  in  debt  and  writing  home  for 
money." 

"  Tell  me  about  them,"  he  said.  "  I  like  to  learn  about 
all  kinds  of. people." 

She  told  him  stories  of  several  rich  young  men  whom  she 
knew,  students  at  this  college  and  that.  From  her  words 
he  gathered  ideas  of  the  lives  of  these  young  spendthrifts, 
as  he  felt  inclined  to  call  them,  ideas  of  their  selfishness 
and  general  inutility  in  the  great  work  of  noble  living. 
What  she  said  tallied  well  with  much  that  he  had  read 
about  the  sons  of  wealthy  parents;  and  in  his  mind  he 
classed  them  all  together  as  the  selfish  rich.  He  felt  no 
envy  of  them,  only  pity,  touched  with  a  noble  scorn. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  your  life,  Mary?  "  he 
asked. 

"  I  hardly  know,  Jesse;  I'm  still  so  young.  I've  never 
been  sent  to  school  like  other  girls;  but  have  had  gov- 
ernesses, and  tutors,  and  music-teachers,  and  teachers  of 
this  and  that,  since  I  can  remember,  my  lessons  constantly 
interrupted  by  journeys  here  and  there.  I've  been  allowed 
to  go  about  in  society  like  a  girl  of  twenty  for  the  last 
year.  No  wonder  I  don't  know  just  where  to  find  myself. 
But  you,  Jesse,  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  your  life?" 

He  looked  at  her,  leaning  forward,  and  a  flame  slowly 
kindled  in  his  mysterious  eyes.  "  I  wonder  if  you  would 
understand,"  he  murmured,  half  to  himself. 

"  Yes,"  she  whispered  eagerly,  "  I  shall  understand  any- 
thing you  tell  me.  You  are  going  to  do  something  great, 


78  THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

I  know.  I've  always  known  it.  You  are  different  from 
everybody  else  in  the  world.  You  make  me  feel — Oh,  I 
can't  tell  what  you  make  me  feel  whenever  I  am  with 
you!" 

"Then  you  believe  in  me,  Mary;  you  believe  .  .  . 
But  what  am  I  saying?  You  really  know  nothing  about 
me,  and  I  can  tell  you  nothing.  My  time  is  not  yet  come. 
I  am  only  Jesse,  the  carpenter,  to  you  and  to  everyone  else, 
until  the  time  comes  when  I  shall  find  my  way  up  the 
mountain  where  the  face  of  the  Law  shall  be  revealed  to 
me,  the  iron  face  of  the  Law  that  is  terrible  and  beautiful, 
that  no  man  may  look  upon  and  live;  for  when  a  man  looks 
on  it  he  is  outside  of  and  beyond  mere  personal  life.  And 
after  that  I  must  make  my  way  up  the  hill  of  the  world's 
desire,  and  through  the  mansion  of  the  world's  revelry  and 
feasting,  and  find  it  empty  of  music  and  empty  of  com- 
panionship. I  must  do  down  the  broad  stairs  of  the  palace 
of  the  world's  desire,  and  the  scarlet  softness  which  covers 
the  hard  stones  will  cling  to  my  feet  and  impede  my  pass- 
ing, and  I  shall  have  to  shake  it  off.  And  in  the  garden 
of  the  world  the  careless  ones  will  give  no  heed  to  me,  and 
I  shall  walk  there  lonely.  And  I  must  climb  the  slippery 
ladder  which  is  almost  impossible  to  climb,  the  ladder 
whose  every  rung  is  made  of  a  slain  desire, — must  climb 
up,  and  up,  from  the  ground  of  loneliness  to  the  high  place 
on  the  other  side  of  the  palace  of  life — the  side  of  real 
and  immortal  joys.  And  when  I  stand  at  the  top  of  the 
perilous  ladder,  and  have  forgotten  myself  in  the  rapture 
of  the  vision,  then  the  ones  below  who  were  indifferent 
shall  call  to  me  to  help  them,  shall  reach  to  me  with 
love  .  .  .  with  love." 

He  was  speaking,  half  to  himself,  of  the  truths  revealed 
to  him  in  the  dreams  which  followed  his  father's  death, — 
things  of  which  he  had  spoken  to  no  one,  but  had  carried 
in  his  heart  as  too  secret  and  too  sacred  to  share  with  any 
other.  He  was  speaking  of  them  to  this  girl  whom  he 
had  not  seen  for  years — this  girl  of  whom  he  knew  so  little, 
and  from  whom  he  was  separated  by  all  those  artificial  bar- 
riers which  make  the  world  of  caste  and  privilege. 

And  she?  She  did  not  understand  with  the  mind,  but 
she  had  the  deeper  understanding  of  the  heart.  She  gazed 


THE   SON   OF   MARY   BETHEL  79 

at  him,  speechless  in  the  face  of  some  unknown  power  which 
transcended  her  experience  of  the  sublime  and  beautiful. 

When  a  moment  later  he  arose  to  go,  she  clung  to  his 
hand,  asking  for  a  promise  that  he  would  come  to  see  her 
again  the  following  evening.  He  thanked  her  and  as- 
sented; then,  after  a  quick  good-night,  passed  out  of  the 
great  house  into  the  quiet,  dimly-lighted  street.  For  an 
hour  or  more  he  walked  about  under  the  stars,  then  turned 
down  the  little  by-street  to  the  lowly  cottage  where  he  was 
making  his  temporary  home  with  the  family  of  one  of  his 
fellow  workmen. 


CHAPTER   XII 

"Do  you  care  for  music?  Shall  I  play  for  you?" 
asked  Mary  the  next  evening,  when  Jesse  came  again  to 
see  her. 

"  Yes,  I  believe  I  love  music  better  than  anything  else 
in  the  world — except,  possibly,  my  blue  mountains." 

She  began  to  play,  and  after  the  first  moment  Jesse 
realised  that  he  had  never  before  heard  real  music.  He  was 
in  heaven,  listening  to  the  voices  of  immaterial  beings;  he 
was  face  to  face  with  the  Ideal,  which  spoke  to  his  soul 
in  this  wordless  language  which  he  understood,  but  could 
not  have  translated  into  the  set  forms  of  earthly  speech. 
Dreams  and  hopes  and  wistful  yearnings  after  joys  he  had 
never  known  came  to  him  in  the  music;  dim  memories  of 
all  the  ages  of  the  past,  prevision  of  the  unaccomplished 
ages  of  the  future.  Hidden  somewhere  in  these  moving 
tones  was  the  answer  to  every  question  of  his  heart;  this 
music  was  the  voice  of  the  one  Friend  for  whom  his  lone- 
liness was  ever  crying.  Impalpable  intelligences  came  and 
mixed  their  thought  with  his;  bodiless  feelings  surged 
against  him  in  the  familiar  intercourse  of  sound  with 
hearing.  As  the  last  notes  died  away,  his  soul  reached  for 
them  through  the  air  and  sighed  to  let  them  go. 

He  had  listened  with  closed  eyes,  but  now  he  opened 
them  and  saw  Mary  standing  before  him.  He  was  so 
grateful  to  her  for  the  wonders  she  had  revealed  to  him, 
that  he  had  no  thought  to  thank  her;  it  would  have  seemed 
like  thanking  the  moon  for  shining,  or  a  bird  for  singing. 
As  she  stood  there,  all  in  white,  under  the  light  of  the 
chandelier,  she  seemed  to  him  like  one  of  those  unearthly 
beings  which  had  spoken  to  him  in  the  music.  He  had  for- 
gotten, for  the  moment,  who  she  was  and  how  she  came  to 
be  there  in  his  presence.  With  a  start,  he  forced  his  con- 
sciousness back  to  the  limitations  of  time  and  place,  to  a 
realisation  of  his  surroundings. 

"  How  marvellous  it  seems,"  he  said,  when  he  found 

80 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL  81 

voice,  "  how  marvellous  it  is  that  you  can  have  the  power 
to  bring  such  wonder,  such  beauty,  such  superhuman  feel- 
ings, out  of  yourself — your  little  self  which  was  a  child 
only  a  short  while  ago — out  of  yourself!  " 

"Oh,  but  I  don't  bring  the  music  out  of  myself,  Jesse!  " 
she  replied.  "  I  am  only  an  emotional  machine  with  lim- 
ber ringers,  a  machine  the  composer  and  creator  of  the 
music  uses  to  express  his  soul  to  yours.  That  is  what  my 
German  piano-teacher  said ;  but  he  also  said  that  I  played 
well,  that  I  was  a  good  emotional  machine,  and  that  my 
fingers  were  good  hammers."  She  laughed.  "  He  was  such 
a  funny  man,  Herr  Hartmann !  " 

"  And  he  taught  you  to  play  like  that  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  would  like  to  meet  him,"  said  Jesse. 

"  He  isn't  here  any  more,"  Mary  answered.  "  Father 
sent  him  away." 

"  Sent  him  away!  "  Jesse  echoed,  "  when  he  could  teach 
you  such  things.  .  .  ." 

"  Oh !  "  Mary  blushed.  "  It  was  this  way,"  she  stam- 
mered a  little,  "  Herr  Hartmann  made  love  to  me,  and 
Father  was  angry." 

"  Made  love  to  you?  "  He  was  dazed  for  a  moment;  it 
was  the  first  time  he  had  realised  that  she  was  now  a 
woman,  not  the  child  he  used  to  play  with  in  Nashburgh. 
So  Mary  was  a  young  woman  now,  and  men  made  love  to 
her!  Somehow,  the  idea  worried  him. 

Just  then  the  door-bell  rang,  and  through  the  open  win- 
dow came  the  mingled  voices  of  several  young  people,  laugh- 
ing and  talking.  Jesse  rose  at  once  to  go,  and  Mary  did 
not  try  to  detain  him.  But  she  said,  as  they  went  together 
to  the  door  of  the  drawing-room: 

"Will  you  come  to  see  me  on  Thursday  evening?" 

"  Yes,"  he  answered. 

In  the  hall  he  passed  two  young  men  and  two  young 
women,  preceded  by  an  older  woman  with  grey  hair.  As 
he  was  going  out,  he  heard  a  voice  say: 

"  We  came  early,  thinking  you  might  like  to  go  with 
us  to  the  Boardmans." 

The  thought  came  to  him  that  if  these  other  callers  were 
early,  he  must  have  called  very  early  indeed.  She  had 


82  THE   SON    OF  MARY    BETHEL 

asked  him  to  come  again  on  Thursday,  and  this  was  Tues- 
day evening.  He  wondered  what  she  meant  to  do  on  Wed- 
nesday. Would  she  play  for  him  again  the  next  time  he 
came?  Then,  walking  alone  under  the  stars,  his  favourite 
way  of  passing  an  evening,  he  tried  to  recall  the  impression 
so  recently  made  on  him  by  that  entrancing  music.  But 
only  a  vague  remembrance  of  mingled  thought  and  feeling 
came  in  answer  to  his  call.  So  he  asked  himself,  as  many 
others  have  asked  before,  if  music  were  not  really  the  lan- 
guage of  the  soul,  the  wordless  message  to  the  world  from 
the  realms  of  the  Spirit.  What  a  power  was  there,  he 
thought,  for  those  who  knew  how  to  invoke  this  voice  of 
the  Unseen!  What  possibilities  were  in  this  universal 
language  to  appeal  to  the  souls  of  men  and  women! 

On  Thursday  evening,  when  he  went  again  to  see  Mary 
in  accordance  with  his  promise,  she  met  him  in  the  door 
of  the  drawing-room.  Her  first  words  were: 

"Will  you  come  up  to  the  library  and  meet  my  father? 
He  has  been  away  for  a  few  days  or  you  would  have  met 
him  before.  She  seemed  to  be  rather  nervous;  her  manner 
was  less  quiet  than  usual. 

He  followed  her  up-stairs  to  a  large  room  at  the  front 
of  the  house.  He  could  see  through  the  open  door  that 
the  walls  of  the  room  were  lined  with  books.  At  the 
sight  his  heart  beat  faster,  and  his  mind,  ever  responsive 
to  the  least  stimulus  of  eye  or  brain,  glowed  at  the  vision 
of  these  rows  on  rows  of  volumes,  the  embodied  thought 
and  feeling  of  generations  of  seekers  for  intellectual  and 
moral  beauty. 

A  large  man,  with  iron-grey  hair  and  strong,  smooth- 
shaven  face,  was  standing  by  a  desk  in  the  centre  of  the 
room.  Jesse  acknowledged  the  introduction  to  Mary's 
father  with  that  instinctive  courtesy  which  was  the  aroma 
of  his  soul,  the  very  quintessence  of  manner  which  came  to 
him  by  nature,  and  which  any  amount  of  formal  training 
could  not  have  made  more  perfect. 

The  banker  offered  Jesse  a  chair  which  stood  at  the 
right  of  his  desk,  while  Mary  seated  herself  demurely  on 
the  other  side  of  her  father.  He  asked  the  young  man 
about  his  work  in  Vergennes,  what  kind  of  an  employer 


THE    SON   OF   MARY   BETHEL  83 

he  found  Peter  Mack,  how  they  were  getting  on  with  the 
building,  and  so  forth. 

"  My  daughter  tells  me  that  you  are  a  great  reader,"  he 
said,  after  a  few  minutes'  conversation  about  these  other 
things ;  "  she  says  that  you  have  read  much  more  than  she 
has." 

"  I  am  older  than  she,"  said  Jesse  modestly. 

The  banker  laughed.  "  I  think  you  are  more  studious 
than  my  pleasure-loving  little  girl.  Are  you  reading  any- 
thing in  particular  just  now?" 

Jesse  mentioned  the  name  of  the  book  he  was  then 
studying,  a  history  of  Vedic  India. 

Now  the  one  great  enthusiasm  of  Herman  Magnus  was 
India:  the  history,  the  religions,  the  people  of  that  mys- 
terious peninsula,  whose  civilisation  was  supreme  and  an- 
cient when  Europe  was  a  waste  of  barbarism.  At  Jesse's 
mention  of  the  subject,  the  face  of  his  host  lighted  with  in- 
terest; he  leaned  forward  in  his  chair,  and  looked  at  the 
young  .man  with  quite  another  expression  than  the  one  of 
perfunctory  and  studied  politeness  which  had  made  his 
handsome,  strongly-chiselled  face  seem  cut  from  ivory.  He 
began  to  speak  of  a  journey  which  he  had  made  through 
India  seven  years  before,  and  of  a  certain  Maharajah  who 
had  entertained  him  for  a  week  with  royal  and  incredible 
magnificence.  He  told  about  the  temples  he  had  visited,  the 
stories  he  had  heard  of  holy  men,  the  magical  doings  of  a 
certain  wonder-worker  whom  he  had  encountered  at  Bom- 
bay. He  dilated  on  the  beauties  of  the  Taj-Mahal,  and 
reminded  Jesse  that  this  comparatively  modern  structure, 
this  thing  of  yesterday  as  measured  by  the  Indian  standard, 
was  older  than  almost  anything  in  our  country. 

He  went  to  one  of  the  great  book-cases  and  brought  out 
a  volume  of  coloured  plates,  views  and  details  of  that 
marvel  of  Agra  of  which  he  had  been  speaking.  Then, 
laying  this  volume  on  the  floor,  he  brought  another,  Moor's 
"  Hindu  Pantheon,"  and  briefly  explained  to  Jesse  cer- 
tain differences  between  the  Vedic  and  the  modern  gods 
of  India.  He  opened  a  drawer  of  his  desk  and  took  out  a 
handful  of  little  bronze  figures,  Buddhas  and  Shivas;  he 
carefully  unrolled  the  tissue  wrappings  of  a  dried  natural 
leaf,  which  he  told  Jesse  was  a  leaf  of  the  sacred  Bo-tree; 


84  THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

he  showed  him  a  rosary  of  tulsi-beads  which  a  Krishna 
yogi  had  given  him  in  Calcutta. 

Jesse  was  so  absorbed  that  he  could  not  have  told  after- 
ward whether  this  extraordinary  man  had  been  talking  to 
him  for  fifteen  minutes  or  for  two  hours.  But  at  last 
Herman  Magnus  glanced  at  his  watch. 

"  Please  excuse  me,"  he  said;  "but  I  have  been  so  in- 
terested that  I  have  made  myself  late  for  an  important  en- 
gagement. No,  do  not  go  away,"  as  Jesse  rose  also  to  take 
his  leave ;  "  stay  and  talk  with  Mary  for  an  hour.  She  has 
little  enough  to  interest  her  these  days  of  her  mother's  ill- 
ness, poor  child !  And  I  hope  you  will  come  to  this  house 
whenever  it  pleases  you,  so  long  as  you  are  in  our  city.  If 
I  have  any  books  here  which  you  desire  to  read,  you  are 
welcome  to  take  them,  merely  giving  Mary  the  titles  of 
those  you  select,  that  I  may  know  where  they  are." 

He  shook  hands  with  Jesse  warmly,  kissed  Mary  on  the 
cheek,  and  went  away. 

As  soon  as  the  street  door  had  closed  after  him,  Mary 
began  to  jump  about  the  room  like  a  delighted  child  of  ten. 
She  laughed,  she  clapped  her  hands;  then,  seeing  the 
puzzled  look  on  Jesse's  face,  she  came  over  to  him,  laid 
her  two  little  flowers  of  hands  on  his  shoulders  and  looked 
seriously  into  his  face. 

"  My  friend,"  she  said,  "  whatever  you  may  do  in  future, 
whatever  conquests  you  may  make  of  people  or  things, 
you  will  never  do  anything  half  so  extraordinary  as  what 
you  have  done  to  my  father  this  evening.  He  is  literally 
charmed  with  you — he  who  cannot  endure  any  of  my  young 
men  friends ! "  She  looked  up  at  him  archly,  taking  away 
her  hands  from  his  shoulders  and  half  turning  aside. 

"  I've  a  great  mind  to  tell  you  something,"  she  said ; 
"you  are  so  sensible  that  you  will  understand.  Well,  when 
I  told  my  father  how  you  had  been  coming  to  see  me  in  the 
evening,  how  we  had  talked  alone  together,  neither  he  nor 
Mother  knowing  anything  about  you,  he  was  furious.  Oh, 
he  is  dreadfully  stern,  this  gentle  parent  of  mine!  He 
demanded  that  you  should  be  shown  to  him,  as  an  old  King 
of  Babylon,  if  Babylon  had  kings,  might  have  demanded 
your  beautiful  head,  Jesse.  I  was  frightened  half  to  death 
when  you  came  this  evening,  and  I  brought  you  right  up 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL  85 

to  Father's  study."  She  drew  a  deep  sigh  of  relief,  that 
ended  with  a  laugh.  "  Father  didn't  understand  how  any- 
body of  your  profession,  or  trade,  or  whatever  it's  called, 
could  be  so  colossally  my  superior  as  he  now  realises  that 
you  are.  He  will  be  quoting  you  to  me  now  as  an  example, 
whenever  I'm  idle  or  stupid.  Oh,  Jesse,  how  very  wonder- 
ful you  are!"  Her  face  softened,  all  the  merriment  went 
out  of  it,  and  a  wistful  something  he  could  not  have  named 
passed  like  a  shadow  into  her  dark  eyes. 

"  Do  you  want  to  make  me  very  happy?  "  he  asked,  half 
hesitating  to  express  his  dearest  wish. 

"  Yes." 

"  Play  for  me  again,  as  you  did  the  other  night.  It  is 
ecstasy  for  me." 

They  went  down  to  the  drawing-room,  and  she  played 
more  wonderfully  than  before,  haunting  music  full  of  in- 
effable desires  and  melancholy. 

When  the  time  came  for  Jesse  to  go  home,  Mary  de- 
tained him  for  a  few  minutes  by  the  reminder  that  he  was 
to  choose  a  book  or  two  from  her  father's  library.  Of 
course,  after  the  talk  on  India,  he  chose  a  volume  about  that 
country  of  strange  ways  and  strange  religions.  Embodied  in 
this  volume  was  a  translation  of  the  Bhagavad-Gita,  that 
deathless  little  Indian  classic,  which  has  been  to  generation 
after  generation  of  high  souls  as  a  finger  pointing  the  way 
to  a  path  too  steep  and  perilous  to  be  trodden  by  any  feet 
save  those  of  the  immortals. 

And  he  chose  also  another  little  book  of  ancient  time, 
the  Tao-te-King  of  Lao-tsze,  old  philosopher  of  China, 
whose  half-veiled  words  have  influenced  those  whose  un- 
veiled words  have  influenced  the  ages. 

Far  into  the  night  and  every  night  he  read  these  mys- 
tic books;  he  even  gave  up  walking  under  the  stars;  and  all 
day  long  when  busy  about  his  work  he  thought  of  them. 
His  subtle  poet's  mind  went  deep  into  their  mysteries.  At 
last  the  boy  stood  face  to  face  with  those  whom  he  felt  to 
be  his  spiritual  brothers;  and  though  the  centuries  divided 
them,  yet  were  they  of  one  family,  true  sons  of  the  all- 
seeing  Father. 

At  first  his  fellow  workmen  were  inclined  to  chaff  him 
on  his  abstraction;  but  as  he  did  his  work  better  than  they 


86  THE   SON    OF  MARY   BETHEL 

did  theirs,  and  was  always  ready  with  a  gentle  word  and  a 
smile,  they  began  to  respect  him  and  even  to  silence  their 
own  chatter  that  he  might  have  peace  for  his  thoughts, 
which,  as  they  somehow  perceived,  were  too  high  for  their 
dull  comprehension.  His  natural  reticence  grew  deeper 
day  by  day.  There  was  no  one  about  him  to  whom  he 
might  speak  his  thoughts;  even  his  mother,  had  she  been 
with  him  now  instead  of  miles  away,  would  not  have  un- 
derstood him  any  longer.  Another  door  had  been  opened 
for  him  into  the  celestial  mansion;  but  he  could  not  take 
his  loved  ones  with  him,  for  the  place — while  warm  enough 
for  him  whose  body  and  soul  were  burning  with  the  un- 
quenchable inner  flame — would  have  been  too  high  and 
cold  for  their  cold  natures,  a  place  too  far  from  the  domes- 
tic hearth-fire  where  they  were  wont  to  warm  themselves. 
At  times  he  felt  almost  too  much  alone,  and  he  would  en- 
courage his  fellow  workmen  to  talk  to  him  about  their  small 
affairs,  merely  that  he  might  feel  closer  to  them.  The 
time  was  to  come  when  his  inner  fire  would  be  hot  enough 
to  warm  himself  and  every  other  being  who  came  near 
him;  but  that  time  was  not  yet.  At  this  period  of  his  life 
he  was  still  only  a  boy,  and  he  sometimes  suffered  from 
spiritual  growing-pains. 

One  night  he  sat  reading  his  two  ancient  books.  He 
was  now  sufficiently  familiar  with  them  to  turn  from  one 
to  the  other,  seeking  in  the  old  philosopher  of  China  the 
answer  to  some  question  awakened  in  his  mind  by  the  sage 
of  India,  going  to  the  latter  for  the  parallel  of  some 
illuminating  paradox  which  in  the  former  had  startled  him 
to  his  feet.  He  had  come  to  feel  the  underlying  unity  in 
all  philosophies;  had  come  to  feel  that  Truth  is  a  gem  with 
many  faces,  and  that  from  the  one  white  jewel  may  sparkle 
myriad-tinted  lights. 

In  the  book  of  the  wise  one  of  China  he  read :  "  By 
non-action  there  is  nothing  that  may  not  be  done."  "  There 
is  a  purity  and  quietude  by  which  one  may  rule  the  world." 
"To  act  and  expect  not.  .  .  .  This  is  called  sublime 
virtue." 

In  the  book  of  the  wise  one  of  India  he  read,  as  being 
the  words  of  the  god:  "  Perform  thou  that  which  thou 
hast  to  do,  at  all  times  unmindful  of  the  event;  for  the 


THE    SON   OF   MARY   BETHEL  87 

man  who  doeth  that  which  he  hath  to  do,  without  attach- 
ment to  result,  obtaineth  the  Supreme.  .  .  .  There  is 
nothing  in  the  three  regions  of  the  universe  which  it  is 
necessary  for  me  to  perform,  nor  anything  possible  to  obtain 
which  I  have  not  obtained,  and  yet  I  am  constantly  in 
action." 

In  the  one  book  he  read :  "  The  name  which  can  be 
named  is  not  the  Eternal  Name."  In  the  other  he  read: 
"I  am  the  Ego  that  is  seated  in  the  hearts  of  all  beings; 
I  am  the  beginning,  the  middle  and  the  end  of  all  existing 
things.  .  .  .  But  what,  O  Arjuna,  hast  thou  to  do 
with*  so  much  knowledge  as  this?  I  established  this  whole 
universe  with  a  single  portion  of  myself,  and  remain  sepa- 
rate." 

Again,  in  the  first  he  found :  "  The  sage  wears  a  coarse 
garment  and  hides  his  jewel  in  his  bosom."  And  in  the 
other,  these  were  the  words  of  the  god :  "  Among  the  wise 
of  secret  knowledge  I  am  their  silence." 

He  closed  his  books  and  sat  a  long  time  in  meditation  on 
the  mystery  of  mortal  life,  the  never-answered  questions  of 
the  before  and  after.  He  had  seen  little  of  the  world,  as 
yet;  but  that  little  had  been  enough  to  show  him  that  all 
beings  ever  swing  like  pendulums  between  the  opposites  of 
pleasure  and  pain,  joy  and  sorrow,  hope  and  fear,  good  and 
evil,  desire  and  disappointment.  They  come  into  the  world 
in  pain,  where  for  a  little  time  they  laugh  in  the  sunshine 
and  weep  in  the  shadow,  and  then  they  die  in  pain,  and  the 
grave  receives  them,  to  make  room  for  others,  who  in  their 
turn  are  born  in  pain,  who  laugh  and  weep  awhile,  who  die 
in  pain,  and  the  grave  receives  them,  to  make  room  again 
for  others.  And  so  on  and  on,  from  everlasting  unto  ever- 
lasting. Why?  Whence?  Whither? 

And  then  and  there  he  vowed  himself  anew  to  the  great 
quest.  Somewhere,  surely,  among  the  mountains  of  life 
was  the  well  of  understanding.  Surely  he  should  find  it 
if  he  sought  without  ceasing;  and,  having  found,  he  would 
give  all  the  world  to  drink  of  the  well,  and  they  would 
follow  him  and  love  him  for  ever.  He  remembered  the 
words  of  the  old  philosopher  of  China:  "  If,  for  the 
sake  of  dignity,  one  seek  to  make  himself  ruler  of  the 
world,  he  may  be  permitted  to  rule  it  temporarily;  but  if 


88  THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

for  love,  one  seek  to  make  himself  ruler  of  the  world, 
he  may  be  entrusted  with  it  for  ever." 

With  heaving  bosom  and  eyes  suffused  with  tears,  he 
threw  himself  face  downward  on  the  floor  of  his  narrow 
room  and  prayed: 

"  Power  of  the  Universe,  Thou  who  art  the  source, 
the  restless  stream,  the  endless  ocean  of  existence,  reveal 
to  me  the  secret  of  Thy  being.  Thou  who  art  One  and 
everlasting,  whose  purpose  is  the  tendency  of  all  our  pur- 
poses, make  known  to  me — mere  drop  among  Thy  myriad 
drops — the  meaning  of  myself." 


CHAPTER   XIII 

FOR  more  than  a  week  Jesse  had  not  thought  of  Mary 
Magnus,  so  absorbed  was  he  in  the  books  which  her  father 
had  lent  him;  but  one  day  he  saw  her  driving  by  in  her 
little  pony  phaeton,  and  promised  himself  that  he  would  go 
that  very  night  to  call  on  her  again.  He  had  not  meant 
to  stay  away  so  long;  but  the  nights  were  all  too  short 
for  his  reading  and  meditation,  and  from  seven  in  the  morn- 
ing until  six  in  the  evening  he  hammered  and  sawed  and 
planed  for  Peter  Mack,  the  builder. 

It  was  a  lovely  August  night,  warm  and  softly  scented. 
The  full  moon  was  just  rising  over  the  mountain  as  he 
went  down  the  street  to  Mary's  house.  At  the  door  he 
called  for  both  the  father  and  the  daughter;  but  the  maid 
said : 

"  Mr.  Magnus  is  away  from  home ;  Miss  Mary  is  in 
the  garden.  Will  you  go  out  there?" 

He  found  her  sitting  in  a  hammock  hung  between  two 
drooping  maple-trees,  idly  swinging  herself  with  one  red- 
slippered  foot.  Her  face,  uplifted  to  the  rising  moon,  was 
wistful  and  rather  sad;  but  when  she  caught  sight  of  him 
a  light  came  into  her  eyes  which  was  not  borrowed  from 
the  moon,  and  as  she  rose  and  gave  him  her  hand,  it  seemed 
to  him  that  she  was  all  a-tremble. 

"  You  have  been  a  long  time  away,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  I  have  been  reading  your  father's  books.  See,  I 
have  brought  them  back." 

"  My  father  is  in  Boston  to-night.  He  said  that  I 
might  give  you  the  books." 

She  felt  the  tremour  of  gladness  in  his  voice  as  he 
thanked  her. 

"  Have  the  books  meant  so  much  to  you?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  very  much !  I  find  myself  in  them — in  both  of 
them.  I  do  not  find  myself  in  many  modern  books." 

She  motioned  him  to  a  seat  beside  her  in  the  wide 
hammock. 

89 


go  THE    SON    OF  MARY    BETHEL 

"  I  think  you  love  my  father's  books  better  than  me," 
she  said. 

He  turned  to  her  in  distress  and  self-reproach. 

"  I  have  been  neglectful  of  your  friendship,  Mary.  Will 
you  forgive  me  ?  " 

"  What  else  can  I  do  but  forgive  you  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  know  that  you  would  really  miss  me.  If 
I  had  known " 

"  You  did  not  know !  " 

"  Believe  me,  I  did  not." 

"  I  think  your  heart  is  rather  cold,  dear  Jesse,  for  all 
your  gentleness." 

But  when  she  looked  at  him  she  saw  that  his  eyes  were 
full  of  tears. 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  mean  that!  "  she  cried,  breathlessly.  "  In- 
deed, I  didn't,  Jesse."  She  caught  his  long  cool  hand  in 
both  her  hot  little  hands.  "  Don't  mind  what  I  said,  dear 
friend.  I  think  the  moon  has  turned  my  brain  to-night." 

"  But  you  did  mean  it,  Mary.  Have  I  really  failed  in 
friendship?  No  one  ever  told  me  that  before." 

"  No,  no,  a  thousand  times,  no.  I  am  foolish ;  it  is 
nothing,  indeed,  it  is  nothing."  She  was  wiping  her  eyes 
on  her  wisp  of  a  handkerchief  before  he  realised  that  she 
was  crying. 

Then  his  great  tenderness  overcame  him,  his  great  pity 
for  every  hurt  thing  under  heaven.  He  took  her  quivering 
hand  between  his  quiet  palms  and  looked  her  deep  in  the 
eyes.  In  the  one  long  look  she  gave  him  in  return  she  told 
him  everything  without  a  word.  He  understood  that  Mary 
the  woman  loved  him  the  man — loved  him!  The  shock  of 
the  revelation  made  his  face  turn  white.  Something  at 
last  which  she  saw  in  his  eyes  made  her  drop  her  own  and 
cover  her  bowed  face  with  her  hands.  Gently  he  laid  his 
hand  on  her  dark  curls. 

"  Why  do  you  hide  your  face  from  me,  Mary?  " 

"  Because  I  am  ashamed." 

"  Why  are  you  ashamed  that  I  should  know "  he 

hesitated. 

"  Say  it,  Jesse." 

He  was  silent.  She  raised  her  head  and  looked  atjiim 
again. 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL  91 

"  No,  you  dare  not  say  it ;  but  I  dare.  It  is  something 
I  have  never  said  to  any  man,  though  many  have  said  it  to 
me.  Yes,  I  love  you,  Jesse.  I  have  loved  you  since  that 
day,  nine  years  ago,  when  you  came  late  to  school  and 
stood  in  the  doorway  with  the  morning  sunlight  making  a 
halo  around  your  head.  I  shall  love  you  till  I  die." 

He  opened  his  lips — then  closed  them,  knowing  not  what 
to  say. 

"  You  are  so  different  from  all  other  men,  Jesse.  I 
could  not  speak  like  this  to  any  other  man;  but  I'm  not 
afraid  in  the  least  to  let  you  know — everything,  everything! 
At  first  I  was  afraid  that  you  would  know,  but  now — 
now — Jesse!  " 

"Yes,  Mary." 

"  Do  you  love  me  a  little,  just  a  little?  " 

He  drew  a  long  deep  breath,  that  seemed  to  catch  in  his 
breast  and  choke  him.  Then  he  said: 

"  Mary,  little  Mary,  I  think  that  no  one  else  in  the 
whole  world  will  ever  love  you  as  much  as  I  do;  but " 

She  held  her  breath  while  he  hesitated  for  his  words. 

"  But,"  he  went  on,  "  you  will  never  be  satisfied  with 
the  kind  of  love  I  give  you,  no  matter  how  great  the 
quantity.  I  would  suffer  for  a  week  to  save  you  a  mo- 
ment's pain;  but  I  cannot  give  you  the  love  which  belongs 
to  you.  I  cannot,  Mary,  I  cannot!  It  is  only  when  a 
man  is  willing  to  be  nothing  that  he  becomes  as  great  as 
anything  and  everything.  It  is  only  the  man  who  can  live 
without  love  who  shall  show  the  world  a  better  way  of 
loving.  It  is  not  till  you  have  found  the  One,  that  the 
many  can  find  you." 

"  Jesse,   I   do  not  understand." 

"  Listen,  then.  I  can  never  love  any  woman  as  she 
wishes  to  be  loved;  yet  I  shall  love  every  woman  in  the 
world  better  than  any  other  human  being  loves  her.  No, 
do  not  turn  your  face  away.  You  must  try  to  understand 
me.  He  who  would  think  for  others  must  cease,  for  a 
time,  to  think  of  others.  He  who  would  love  the  whole 
world  must  not  love  any  individual  too  exclusively" 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  Jesse  ?  What  is  your 
life  going  to  be  ?  " 

He  went  on,  as  if  he  had  not  heard  her  question: 


92  THE   SON    OF  MARY   BETHEL 

"  The  desires  of  self  are  not  confined  to  the  body,  nor 
even  to  the  mind;  they  knock  at  the  doors  of  the  soul  also. 
Would  you  accept  the  bliss  of  paradise  for  self,  and  leave 
the  suffering  world  unaided  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,  Jesse.  But  what  of  you?  Must  you 
live  your  life  all  alone?  " 

"  He  who  is  willing  to  stand  alone  has  the  gods  and  the 
ages  for  company.  Only  through  isolation  does  the  soul 
reach  union." 

"You  seem  so  far  away,  Jesse,  when  you  speak  like 
that." 

He  turned  again  to  her,  and  spoke  in  his  usual  manner. 
"  You  say  you  love  me,  Mary.  That  is  my  real  self,  which 
I  have  just  been  showing  you.  Do  you  love  that?  " 

*'  Yes,  even  that — because  it  is  you.  But  I  don't  un- 
derstand." 

They  were  both  silent  for  a  time;  then  she  said,  slowly, 
and  as  if  every  word  hurt  her: 

"  I  think,  Jesse,  that  you  have  broken  my  heart." 

"  Don't  say  so,  Mary,  please  don't!  I  never  dreamed 
that  I  could  cause  you  pain.  Why,  you  have  been  so  kind 
to  me,  and  your  father " 

"  My  father  gave  you  the  books  which  kept  you  ten 
days  away  from  me !  " 

It  was  true,  and  he  made  no  answer. 

Again  she  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  her  manner 
changed.  A  touch  of  wildness,  of  recklessness,  came  over 
her.  She  laughed,  and  her  laughter  hurt  him  more  than 
her  tears. 

"  And  what  shall  I  do  with  my  life?  "  she  said.  "  You 
have  broken  my  heart.  Do  you  know  what  that  means? 
Oh,  I  would  have  done  anything  for  you — everything! 
My  father  adores  me  and  would  have  made  any  sacrifice 
to  give  me  happiness,  after  he  had  stormed  awhile.  I 
could  have  brought  you  the  world,  Jesse.  We  are  rich, 
rich,  rich!  In  this  little  town  we  don't  spend  the  interest 
on  our  income.  Do  you  know  enough  of  life  to  realise 
what  that  means?  My  father  could  buy  Peter  Mack, 
your  employer,  as  he  would  buy  a  bunch  of  bananas.  I 
saw  you  there  this  afternoon,  as  I  drove  by,  bruising  your 
beautiful  hands  in  the  service  of  that  vulgarian.  You  are 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL  93 

so  great,  my  Jesse!  I  have  heard  people  speak  of  the  dig- 
nity of  labour;  you  are  the  dignity  of  labour.  You  are  so 
superior  to  everybody  that  you  could  go  in  your  working- 
clothes  into  the  presence  of  a  king,  and  he  would  never 
know  that  you  were  not  dressed  in  purple  and  fine  linen. 
And  I  loved  you !  " 

Her  voice  sank  to  a  low  cry  at  the  last  words.  Then 
she  laughed  again,  and  a  shiver  of  pain  passed  over  him. 

"What  shall  I  do  with  my  life?"  she  repeated.  "I 
cannot  live  like  all  these  stupid,  stolid  women.  Can  I 
marry  some  heavy  blockhead  and  bear  him  babies,  spend- 
ing my  time  between  nurseries  and  tea-parties,  church- 
fairs  and  dressmakers,  Paris  and  Vergennes?  Oh,  I  shall 
go  to  the  devil,  Jesse,  I  know  I  shall!  For  you  I  could 
have  been  anything,  a  saint,  a  housewife,  whatever  you 
wanted  me  to  be.  But  now?  Oh,  the  world  is  wide  and 
the  world  is  gay,  and  I  have  money,  and  beauty,  and  wit, 
and  somewhere  I  shall  find  forgetfulness.  There  is  wine 
and  song  and  a  world  of  men,  such  as  they  are." 

"  Mary,  you  are  breaking  my  heart." 

She   laughed. 

"Have  you  a  heart?" 

He  rose,  white  and  quivering  with  pain. 

"  Good-bye,  Mary." 

She  clutched  his  hands,  all  the  mockery  of  her  last  words 
giving  way  to  terrible  tears  and  sobs  that  tore  his  heart 
to  hear. 

"  Don't  leave  me,  Jesse !  Don't  go  away  like  that !  For- 
give me,  for  .1  am  insane — out  of  my  mind,  and  I  don't 
know  what  I'm  saying.  I  suffer  so,  I  suffer  so!  " 

He  sat  down  again  beside  her,  and  she  bowed  her  head 
upon  his  knees  and  sobbed  there.  Once,  years  before,  his 
mother  had  cried  her  heart  out  on  his  breast;  but  her  cry- 
ing was  not  like  this  of  Mary's,  it  had  not  hurt  him  so. 
He  looked  out  over  the  purple  whispering  trees,  stirred 
by  the  night  wind.  How  tremulously  alive  the  world  was 
— how  responsive  to  happiness  and  pain!  The  breeze  upon 
his  face  was  soft  as  Mary's  hair.  He  lightly  touched  one 
loose  dark  lock  which  lay  across  his  arm. 

"  Oh,  Mary,  little  Mary!  Do  not  weep  so.  Your 
tears  are  drops  of  blood  upon  my  soul." 


94  THE   SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

Her  sobbing  ceased,  and  she  lay  quite  still. 

Somewhere  off  in  the  darkness  a  cricket  was  calling 
ceaselessly,  insistently.  There  seemed  to  be  no  other  sound. 
In  the  expectant  hush,  something  opened — like  a  window — 
in  his  consciousness,  and  he  perceived  with  startling  vivid- 
ness a  new  and  hitherto  undreamed-of  world,  lying  just 
outside  the  small  but  intense  sphere  wherein  he  had  lived 
alone  for  eighteen  years.  The  perception  was  not  joy,  it 
was  not  suffering,  but  something  too  still  to  be  either  suf- 
fering or  joy;  it  seemed  as  if  he  saw  into  the  rarefied 
crystalline  atmosphere  surrounding  the  soul  of  the  world. 
In  that  moment  of  clear  sight  he  had  forgotten  where  he 
was;  but  a  long  sigh  from  Mary  brought  him  back  to  the 
groping  earth. 

"  What  shall  I  say  to  you,  little  sister?  You  have  given 
me  a  pearl,  a  wonderful  pearl,  and " 

"  And  you  don't  want  it,  Jesse.  So,  as  I  can't  give  it 
to  anyone  else,  I'll  crush  it,  grind  it  to  powder.  No,  I 
cannot  give  it  to  anyone  else,  my  pearl;  but  I  have  other 
jewels — rubies  red  as  my  blood,  topazes  yellow  as  the 
eyes  of  my  cat,  sapphires  blue  as  your  eyes,  Jesse,  and 
opals  full  of  fire  and  moonlight,  tears  and  evil.  Oh!  I 
will  lavish  all  the  vari-coloured  jewels  of  my  heart  and 
soul  on  others,  on  anybody,  everybody;  for  I  have  crushed 
my  one  white  pearl,  and  nothing  else  has  any  value  for 
me." 

"When  you  talk  like  that,  you  make  me  afraid." 

"Afraid,   Jesse?" 

"Afraid  for  you,  Mary." 

"  Oh,  do  not  trouble  about  me ! " 

He  looked  far  out  over  the  purple  trees.  "  I  am  going 
home  the  day  after  to-morrow,"  he  said. 

"  The  sooner  the  better,  Jesse." 

"Why,  Mary!" 

"  Yes,  the  sooner  the  better,  my  friend.  I  shall  find  it 
easier  to  live  when  you  are  gone." 

"  You  hate  me  so  ?  " 

"  Hate  you?  I  could  never  hate  you;  but  when  you 
are  here,  I  hate  everything  else." 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  leave  you  now?" 

"Yes.     I  would  like  to  be  alone  for  a  little  while." 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL  95 

He  arose  and  stood  before  her,  tall  and  dark  against  the 
moonlight.  There  was  a  brief  silence,  then  she  said: 

"Jesse,  when  my  little  brother  died,  before  they  covered 
his  face  I  kissed  him.  •  It  is  a  fearfully  beautiful  thing  to 
kiss  the  dead.  I  think  I  wish  to  kiss  you — before  you  are 
covered  out  of  sight  for  ever." 

She  arose  from  the  hammock,  and  he  bent  toward  her. 
Taking  his  face  between  her  now  cold  hands,  she  looked 
a  long  time  into  his  eyes.  But  she  did  not  kiss  him. 

"  No,  you  are  not  dead,  Jesse ;  but  vividly,  terribly 
alive.  Good-bye." 

She  withdrew  her  hands  from  his  face.  Then,  without 
a  word,  he  turned  and  went  away. 

An  hour  later  the  young  workman  with  whom  Jesse 
lived,  coming  through  his  little  orchard  on  the  way  home, 
saw  a  motionless  figure  lying  on  the  grass,  long  and  slen- 
der, its  arms  extended  straight  out  in  the  form  of  a  cross. 
Coming  nearer  he  saw  that  it  was  Jesse. 

"Why,  man,"  he  said,  "what  are  you  doing  here?  " 

Jesse  opened  his  eyes  and  gazed  at  his  friend,  and  in  the 
moonlight  his  face  was  like  that  of  a  spirit. 

"  I  am  trying  to  remember  something,"  was  all  he  said. 
And  the  man  went  away  and  left  him  there. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

Two  days  later,  when  Jesse  stepped  off  the  train  at  the 
Nashburgh  station,  he  felt  a  hand  clutching  his  arm.  Turn- 
ing, he  looked  into  the  drawn  face  of  Marty  White. 

"Jesse,  are  you  my  true  friend?"  the  boy  asked,  in  a 
hoarse  whisper. 

"Yes.     What  is  the  matter?" 

"  I'll  tell  you  as  we're  going  down  the  creek  road,  where 
nobody  can  hear.  It's  something  awful,  Jesse." 

They  passed  the  few  scattered  houses  beyond  the  station, 
and  crossing  the  old  wooden  bridge,  turned  north  along 
the  river.  Jesse  did  not  say  a  word,  but  waited  for  Marty 
to  speak.  After  a  few  rods,  he  heard  the  boy  sobbing. 
Then  he  put  his  strong  arm  around  the  bent  shoulders  of 
his  friend. 

"  What  is  it,  Marty  ?     Is  your  mother  dead  ?  " 

"  No,  no ;  but  I  wish  she  was,  before  she  finds  out  what 
I've  done.  I  wish  I  was  dead,  too." 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it." 

"  Oh,  you'll  turn  against  me,  maybe!  I  wouldn't  blame 
you  if  you  should;  but,  somehow,  I  know  you  won't,  Jesse, 
will  you  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Not  when  I  tell  you  I'm  a  thief?  " 

Jesse  tightened  his  arm  around  Marty's  shoulder.  "  If 
that  is  true,"  he  said,  "  it  seems  to  me  that  you  need  my 
friendship  more  than  ever." 

"  God  knows  I  do !  Oh,  how  could  I  ever  have  done  it ! 
How  could  I  ever  have  done  it ! " 

"  Temptation,"  Jesse  said. 

"  Temptation  ?  Oh,  you  don't  know  what  temptation 
is,  Jesse !  " 

"  Perhaps  I  do." 

"  I  stole  one  of  Olin  Madison's  cows,"  Marty  confessed, 
"  and  I  drove  her  in  the  night  to  Wheelerville  and  sold 

96 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL  97 

her  for  twenty  dollars  to  the  fellow  from  New  Hampshire 
that's  leased  the  Croly  farm." 

Jesse  drew  a  long  breath.    "When  was  that?  "  he  asked. 

"  Night  before  last." 

"  Night  before  last  .  .  .  Does  Olin  Madison 
know?" 

"  He'd  have  me  arrested  if  he  knew.  He's  notified  the 
constable,  and  they're  looking  everywhere.  They'll  find 
out  the  truth,  Jesse,  I'm  afraid;  because,  as  I  was  coming 
out  of  the  village  after  selling  the  cow,  I  met  Thomas 
Taylor  driving  in,  and " 

Jesse  cut  him  off:     "Have  you  spent  the  money?" 

"  Of  course.  Do  you  think  I'd  have  stolen  if  it  hadn't 
been  a  matter  of  life  and  death  ?  " 

Jesse  made  no  answer,  and  the  two  walked  on  in  silence 
for  half  a  mile.  When  they  came  to  the  gate  of  Marty's 
neglected  dooryard,  Jesse  said: 

"  Go  to  Wheelerville  to-morrow,  buy  back  that  cow — 
here's  twenty-five  dollars,  and  turn  her  loose  in  Olin's  pas- 
ture to-morrow  night.  If  Olin  were  like  some  men,  I 
would  advise  you  to  go  to  him,  tell  the  truth,  and  pay  for 
the  cow;  but  you  could  never  make  him  understand.  And, 
then,  he  would  tell  everybody.  Open  confession  may  be 
good  for  the  soul  everywhere;  but  open  confession  is  not 
good  for  the  reputation — in  Nashburgh.  If  you  return 
the  cow,  he  will  only  lose  the  value  of  a  few  pails  of  milk; 
and  I'll  see  that  he  gets  that  back  at  the  auction  of  our 
farm-things  in  the  fall.  .  .  .  No,  don't  thank  me, 
Marty." 

"  I  can't,"  said  the  boy,  "  for  my  heart's  too  full.  We 
don't  thank  folks  for  saving  our  lives,  we  just  love  them. 
I'd  have  killed  myself,  I  know  I  would,  if  I  had  been 
found  out  and  sent  to  jail.  But,  Jesse,  aren't  you  afraid 
to  trust  me  with  this  twenty-five  dollars?  Aren't  you 
afraid  I'll " 

Jesse  bent  quickly  and  kissed  the  boy's  rough  cheek. 

Marty  clung  to  him  a  moment,  while  the  tears  rolled 
down  his  face.  "  Oh,  Jesse,  you  aren't  just  human;  you're 
something  more.  I'll  be  your  dog  for  this." 

"  Be  my  friend  instead.  You  had  better  start  early  in 
the  morning  for  Wheelerville.  Remember  that  you  have 


98  THE   SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

an  errand  for  me  with  Brown  the  carpenter,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  village.  Ask  him  if  there's  any  building  going 
on  over  there.  Good-night." 

Jesse  was  not  easy  in  his  mind.  He  had  chosen  what 
seemed  to  him  the  least  of  the  many  evils  growing  out  of 
Marty's  theft;  yet  he  felt  that,  somehow,  he  had  done 
wrong  in  trying  to  do  right.  He  began  to  realise  that  the 
line  dividing  right  and  wrong  was  not  so  sharply  defined  as 
he  had  been  led  to  suppose;  began  to  realise  the  complexity 
of  the  human  problem.  And  what  if  Marty  should  be 
found  out,  after  all?  Men  offering  cows  for  sale  do  not 
spring  out  of  the  ground;  men  offering  to  buy  back  to-day 
at  an  advance  the  thing  they  sold  two  days  before,  excite 
curiosity  if  not  suspicion. 

Jesse  knew  that  he  should  have  won  Marty's  consent 
to  his  going  to  Olin  Madison,  telling  the  truth  and  offering 
to  pay  for  the  cow.  In  all  his  life  before  he  had  never 
had  to  keep  an  incriminating  secret.  His  own  words  to 
Marty  came  back  to  mock  at  him :  "  Open  confession  is 
not  good  for  the  reputation — in  Nashburgh."  Oh,  to  re- 
call that  heedless  speech! 

That  night  he  laid  down  a  rule  for  himself  which  he  was 
able  to  live  by  all  his  life:  "Guard  your  speech  within 
your  mouth  as  a  sword  within  the  scabbard,  and  only  draw 
it  forth  when  certain  of  your  purpose."  Jesse  thought  out 
many  puzzling  things  before  he  went  to  sleep  that  night. 

"  He  who  deviates  from  the  straight  path  learns,  at  least, 
that  the  path  is  straight,"  he  wrote  down  in  his  note-book 
the  next  day. 

On  the  second  morning  Jesse  found  Marty  waiting  for 
him  on  the  door-step  when  he  came  out,  a  little  after  sun- 
rise. 

"  It's  all  right,"  the  boy  said,  in  a  low  tone.  "  I  put  the 
cow  back  in  the  pasture  this  morning  before  daylight.  I 
told  the  man  my  mother  felt  so  bad  about  my  selling  her 
pet  cow  that  I  wanted  .to  buy  her  back  again.  He  dickered 
awhile,  and  finally  gave  her  to  me  for  twenty-two.  Here's 
the  three  dollars  change.  And  the  carpenter  says  there 
isn't  any  building  going  on  over  there  now;  but  if  there 
should  be  any,  he  will  let  you  know.  I  told  the  other  man 
my  name  was  Reed,  and  that  I  came  from  Bartown.  He's 


THE   SON   OF   MARY   BETHEL  99 

a  stranger  in  these  parts,  so  he  won't  remember;  but  I'll 
fight  shy  of  Wheelerville  from  now  on  to  the  day  of 
judgment." 

"  That's  a  very  wise  idea,"  Jesse  assented. 

After  Marty  went  away  Jesse  sat  down  on  the  well-curb, 
in  the  fresh  morning  air.  The  story  of  the  grief  of  the 
fictitious  mother  of  the  fictitious  Reed  from  Bartown  over 
the  sale  of  the  family  cow,  made  his  eyes  twinkle.  "  Trag- 
edy and  comedy,"  he  murmured  to  himself,  "truly  they 
are  the  right  and  left  sides  of  the  mirror  of  human  life." 

That  afternoon  he  went  down  to  see  Olin  Madison 
about  some  trifling  matter  in  relation  to  the  Bethel  es- 
tate, and  heard  from  the  farmer  a  highly-coloured  account 
of  the  theft  and  final  restitution  of  the  cow. 

"  Sure's  you're  born,"  said  Olin,  ending  his  narrative, 
"  when  I  went  out  to  the  pasture  before  breakfast,  there 
stood  old  Betsy  a-looking  over  the  bars,  lashing  her  tail  at 
a  fly,  as  unconcerned  and  smiling-like  as  if  I  hadn't  been 
scouring  the  neighbourhood  after  her  for  days.  I  dunno's 
I  ever  wished  before  that  animals  could  talk;  but  if  that 
old  cow  of  mine  could  tell  the  story  of  her  adventures  for 
the  last  three  days  and  nights,  'twould  make  the  history  of 
old  Ethan  Allen  look  like  a  dish  o'  soap-grease.  All  yes- 
terday and  the  day  before  I  was  so  darned  mad  I  went 
around  cussing  up  hill  and  down  dale,  till  my  wife  said 
she'd  go  away  on  a  visit  if  I  didn't  shut  up.  But  when 
I  saw  old  Betsy  standing  there  this  morning,  a-lashing 
her  tail  at  the  flies,  I  was  so  took  back — I  broke  my 
galluses. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  went  on,  "  I've  been  thinking  it  all 
over,  and  I  don't  believe  anybody  stole  that  cow.  I  be- 
lieve 'twas  all  a  put-up  game  of  some  of  them  station  fel- 
lows, just  to  pay  me  back  for  putting  water  in  their  cider 
barrel  the  day  of  the  circus.  Gosh!  but  they  got  the  laugh 
around  on  me  all  right,  if  'twas  them;  got  the  laugh  on  me 
and  the  constable  that  threatened  to  arrest  them  all  at  the 
circus  for  rowdying  around  the  cider  barrel.  I'll  bet  I 
won't  hear  the  last  of  stolen  cows  till  all  my  unborn  grand- 
children have  cut  their  wisdom-teeth.  It'll  be  like  Thomas 
Taylor's  cup  of  cold  water,  which  you  handed  out  to  him 
at  the  milk  meeting  when  you  were  a  little  fellow." 


ioo          THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

Jesse  walked  slowly  home  along  the  yellowing  September 
road.  He  had  saved  his  friend  from  disgrace,  and  yet  he 
felt  that  he  had  done  his  friend  an  injury.  He  who  had 
apparently  separated  the  cause  from  the  effect  for  a  friend's 
sake,  now  owed  that  friend  the  true  teaching:  That  cause 
and  effect  can  never  really  be  separated;  and  that  he  who 
seeks  to  remedy  one  evil  by  the  commission  of  another, 
will  eventually  have  to  reckon  with  the  full  results  of 
both. 

A  line  from  the  Bible  kept  running  through  his  mind: 
"  And  the  stars  in  their  courses  fought  against  Sisera." 
Could  it  be  that  the  stars  in  their  courses  fought  for  the 
triumph  of  all  his  purposes?  Or  was  it  only  the  potency 
of  his  will  which  moved  the  minds  of  others  in  some  mys- 
terious way?  He  had  wished  to  save  Marty  White  from 
punishment  for  his  theft,  and  now  the  very  man  from 
whom  the  poor  boy  dreaded  punishment  declared  the  whole 
affair  a  practical  joke  by  some  unknown  but  amiable  rascal. 
And  Jesse's  mother  had  not  asked  him  why  he  brought 
home  so  little  money  from  Vergennes. 

When,  in  the  fulness  of  time,  he  should  attempt  the 
great  but  still  vague  and  unoutlined  project  of  his  life, 
would  all  his  difficulties  melt  away  like  this?  Would 
he  be  able  to  achieve  so  easily  the  vast,  undreamed-of 
things?  Then  a  sadness  came  over  him,  and  his  eyes  filled 
with  tears.  Somehow,  his  lovely  visions  of  the  future  were 
often  clouded;  but  often  again  they  shone  with  diamond 
clearness,  filling  his  soul  with  such  wild  joy  that  he  longed 
to  cry  out  to  a  listening  universe  the  message  which  he  him- 
self yet  only  half  understood. 

About  midway  between  his  home  and  Olin  Madison's, 
on  a  knoll  beside  the  road,  stood  two  brother  trees,  an  oak 
and  a  maple;  their  spreading  branches  intertwining  made 
one  continuous  shade.  Since  childhood  Jesse  had  loved  to 
sit  on  the  ground  between  these  trees,  drawing  into  his  be- 
ing their  mingled  influences.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the 
maple-tree  was  like  the  softness  of  his  nature,  the  oak-tree 
like  his  austerity. 

Walking  home  that  afternoon  from  Olin  Madison's  he 
stopped  at  the  two  trees,  and,  sitting  down  between  them, 
looked  dreamily  out  across  the  many-tinted  marshes  toward 


THE   SON   OF   MARY   BETHEL          101 

the  red,  descending  sun.  How  many  centuries,  how  many 
centuries  of  centuries,  had  the  sun  gone  down  in  splendour 
or  in  cloud  behind  the  mountains  of  the  world?  How 
many  men,  how  many  races  of  men,  had  gazed  like  him  at 
that  stupendous  orb  since  human  life  began?  No  wonder 
that  in  former  ages  they  had  worshipped  the  sun  as  God; 
no  wonder  that  his  progeny  of  planets,  including  our  green 
earth,  should  yearn  to  him  as  father,  source,  sustainer.  All 
this  he  was  to  the  body,  this  vast,  material  sun;  but  hidden 
behind  the  veil  of  his  unendurable  glory,  as  sight  is  hid- 
den in  the  eye,  was  the  ^material  source  and  father  and 
sustainer,  the  essential,  immanent  One. 

Then  suddenly  it  came  to  him  that  not  only  was  he  the 
offspring  of  that  inconceivable  One,  but  that  he  was  that 
One,  he,  now  known  as  Jesse  Bethel;  and,  being  the  One, 
he  was  immortal  and  indomitable,  had  always  been  and 
always  would  be.  This,  then,  was  the  elusive  mystery 
which  had  beckoned  him  for  years  beyond  the  outposts  of 
thought:  how  the  One,  to  realise  Itself,  becomes  the  many; 
how  every  atom  of  that  multitudinous  many  is  essentially 
the  One,  containing  all  Its  powers. 

He  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  stretching  out  his  arms  to  the 
universe,  shouted  aloud  with  joy  and  consciousness  of 
power:  "I  myself  am  God!" 

He  beheld  a  light  unseen  before  upon  the  surface  of  all 
things;  he  felt  a  power  unknown  before  in  the  inmost  deeps 
of  himself,  in  the  deeps  of  everything.  And  in  the  exalta- 
tion of  the  hour  it  seemed  to  him  that  his  body  was  free 
as  air,  that  his  thought  was  limitless,  that  his  rapture  filled 
all  space,  that  his  love  went  out  like  light  in  all  directions. 
No  wonder  the  earth  was  beautiful  to  him  with  more 
than  earthly  beauty,  for  did  he  not  see  it  with  the  eyes 
of  its  Maker?  No  wonder  his  will  could  bring  seemingly 
impossible  things  to  pass,  when  he  was  God.  No  wonder 
his  body  seemed  light  and  free  as  ether,  for  was  it  not  the 
vehicle  of  the  immortal  Wanderer?  No  wonder  his 
thought  knew  no  limit,  when  He  who  was  himself  was  the 
untrammelled  Thinker.  No  wonder  his  rapture  filled  all 
space  to  running  over,  for  was  not  space  so  vast  because  no 
smaller  compass  could  contain  the  vastness  of  God's  joy? 
No  wonder  his  love  went  out  like  light  in  every  direction, 


102          THE    SON    OF  MARY    BETHEL 

for  was  not  God's  love  the  omnipresent  flame,  the  very 
source  of  light? 

All  the  rest  of  the  short  way  home  he  kept  repeating, 
"  I  myself  am  God.  ...  I  myself  am  God.  .  .  ." 

When  still  a  few  rods  from  the  house,  he  saw  his 
brothers  standing  in  the  dooryard.  If  he  should  tell  them 
what  he  had  discovered,  what  answer  would  they  make? 
When  he  came  up  to  them,  they  mentioned  the  price  which 
the  travelling  chicken-dealer  had  just  offered  for  their 
flock.  This  did  not  seem  to  be  the  time  to  tell  thern  the 
great  secret. 

He  went  into  the  kitchen  to  find  his  mother.  She  was 
darning  a  stocking  by  the  window,  and  looked  up  to  re- 
mind him  that  they  had  waited  supper  for  him  more  than 
half  an  hour;  that  the  wood-fire  had  gone  out,  and  the  tea 
was  almost  cold.  Perhaps  he  could  tell  her  to-morrow 
.  .  .  certainly  not  to-night. 

But  on  the  following  day  the  threshers  came;  and  the 
noisy  trampling  of  the  horses  in  the  treadmill,  with  his 
mother's  anxiety  as  to  the  amount  of  oats  which  they 
would  have  to  sell,  made  such  a  confidence  impossible.  On 
the  second  day  the  administrator  of  his  father's  estate,  Olin 
Madison,  came  to  discuss  with  them  many  details  of  the 
approaching  auction.  And  all  of  the  third  day  a  multiplic- 
ity of  small  material  cares  absorbed  his  mother's  mind.  So 
Jesse  kept  his  secret,  unshared  with  anyone;  and  he  was 
destined  so  to  keep  it  for  many  a  long  year. 


CHAPTER   XV 

IT  was  arranged  that  Jesse  should  precede  his  family 
over  the  mountain  to  Myra,  and  find  a  little  house  for 
them,  so  that  the  mother  would  not  be  obliged  to  leave  her 
old  home  in  any  racking  uncertainty  as  to  what  awaited 
her  at  the  end  of  the  journey.  After  Jesse  was  gone  they 
would  sell  everything  at  auction,  except  their  household 
furniture  and  one  cow;  and  when  he  should  send  them 
word  to  come,  they  would  follow  him  into  the  future. 

It  was  a  perfect  morning  in  late  September  when  he 
bade  good-bye  to  the  home  of  his  childhood.  While  his 
brother  Henry  was  harnessing  old  Topsy  to  take  him  to 
Wheelerville,  Jesse  went  into  the  orchard  north  of  the 
house  and  walked  about  alone  among  the  trees.  Every 
spot  was  sacred  with  some  memory.  Under  the  old  sweet 
apple-tree  he  had  read  many  a  wise  and  wonderful  book; 
behind  the  trellis  of  the  grape-vines  he  had  hidden  himself 
to  weep  on  the  day  when  his  father  bluntly  told  him  that 
the  story  of  Jacob's  ladder  was  no  more  true  than  the 
story  of  Jack  and  the  Beanstalk;  in  the  cornfield,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  fence,  he  had  searched  for  brownies  all 
alone  in  the  grey  dawnlight,  while  his  brothers  slept ;  down 
the  old  stone  outside-steps  into  the  cool  summer-cellar  he 
had  gone  on  many  a  scorching  afternoon,  to  dream  of  an- 
cient catacombs  and  to  enjoy  the  damp,  delicious  dread  of 
the  shadow-haunted  underground. 

All  these  dear  and  intimate  things  would  nevermore  be 
anything  but  memories.  Even  should  he  return  in  future 
years,  should  he  revisit  the  old  scenes,  they  would  not  be 
the  same;  the  transforming  hands  of  strangers  would  give 
the  place  a  new,  an  alien  look;  maybe  they  would  paint 
the  weather-beaten,  blue-grey,  nature-tinted  clapboards  of 
the  old  house,  overlaying  the  rough  beauty  of  age  with  the 
slick  surface  of  modern  ochre  or  white-lead. 

He  went  into  the  kitchen  to  say  good-bye  to  his  mother. 

103 


104          THE   SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

She  was  packing  a  substantial  luncheon  for  him,  and  turned 
from  tying  the  package  to  take  him  in  her  arms.  Choking 
back  the  tears,  she  gave  him  motherly  admonitions  about 
his  health,  and  made  him  promise  to  write  to  her  as  soon 
as  he  arrived  in  Myra. 

"  All  ready  now !  "  called  Henry  from  the  dooryard. 

After  a  long  kiss  for  his  mother  and  a  hearty  handshake 
for  Fred,  Jesse  sprang  into  the  buggy. 

"  G'wan !  "  said  Henry  to  old  Topsy,  who  started  leis- 
urely down  the  hill,  and  Jesse  Bethel's  boyhood  receded 
into  the  past. 

At  nine  o'clock  that  morning  his  brother  bade  him  good- 
bye at  Wheelerville,  the  village  at  the  foot  of  the  moun- 
tain. With  a  knapsack  on  his  back  and  in  his  heart  the 
joy  of  the  unknown,  Jesse  turned  his  face  toward  the  east- 
ern sun.  There  was  a  stage-route  from  Wheelerville  to 
Myra,  fifteen  miles  over  old  Thunder  Mountain;  but  Jesse 
chose  to  travel  this  mystic  road  in  solitude,  going  as  a 
pilgrim  on  foot,  with  freedom  to  muse  or  worship  by  the 
wayside  as  he  should  be  impelled. 

The  crisp  autumnal  air  gave  wings  to  his  spirit.  He 
fancied  that  the  scent  of  pine  and  hemlock  was  the  incense 
rising  from  the  censers  of  an  invisible  priesthood  whose 
temple  was  this  mountain  of  mysterious  visions;  that  the 
sound  of  the  mountain  river,  which  shrilly  whispered  from 
the  bottom  of  the  gorge  a  hundred  feet  below  the  road, 
was  the  ceaseless  inarticulate  ritual  of  adoration  offered  by 
rainbow-robed  communicants  to  the  god  of  woods  and 
waters.  Instinctively  he  knew  that  this  day's  journey 
meant  more  to  him  than  a  mere  change  of  physical  environ- 
ment. A  subtle  but  mighty  power  was  expanding  within 
him,  raising  his  body  to  a  new  stature,  his  mind  to  a  higher 
potency.  He  was  no  longer  the  boy  Jesse,  of  Nashburgh, 
following  uncertainly  in  the  footsteps  of  his  elders;  in  a 
day  he  seemed  to  have  become  a  man,  seemed  to  be  mark- 
ing out  already  a  path  for  himself  of  his  own  choosing,  a 
different  and  more  difficult  and  straighter  path  than  any 
trodden  by  the  downward-gazing  souls  he  knew. 

Somewhere  in  the  great  world  there  must  be  those  who 
gazed  up  instead  of  down,  those  who  questioned  the  sky 
for  other  meanings  than  weather-omens  for  their  crops.  In 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL  105 

all  his  short  life,  until  recently  in  Vergennes,  he  had  never 
known  anyone  except  his  mother  for  whom  the  value  of 
a  dream  in  the  life-scales  weighed  more  than  an  acre  of 
land.  The  solemn-faced  ministers  of  his  mother's  denom- 
ination spoke  the  language  of  the  spiritual  life;  but  they 
spoke  it  as  the  boys  at  the  Nashburgh  schoolhouse  used  to 
recite  the  passages  from  Julius  Caesar  in  the  Fifth  Reader 
on  recitation  days,  with  more  lung-power  than  understand- 
ing. It  swept  over  him  suddenly,  walking  the  silent  moun- 
tain road,  how  utterly  alone  in  the  world  he  was. 

About  half-way  up  the  side  of  old  Thunder  Mountain 
there  is  a  spring  of  never-failing  water.  On  the  hottest 
day  in  summer  it  gushes  cool  and  keen  from  the  mossy 
rocks  beside  the  road;  on  the  coldest  day  in  winter  it 
trickles  under  the  ice.  Nearing  the  spring,  Jesse  was  sur- 
prised to  see  a  man  leaning  over  it,  drinking  from  the  hol- 
low of  his  hand.  Suddenly  the  man  stood  up,  and  his 
tall,  gaunt  figure,  clad  in  grey,  scanty  garments  of  strange 
cut,  was  outlined  vividly  against  the  background  of  pine- 
trees.  His  black  hair  came  to  his  shoulders.  At  the  sound 
of  Jesse's  footsteps  he  turned,  as  if  to  disappear  among  the 
trees;  but  something  in  the  young  man's  face  held  him. 

"  May  I  drink  of  your  spring?"  Jesse  asked. 

"  It  is  not  my  spring.     It  is  free  to  everyone." 

"  All  the  more  yours  for  that  reason,"  was  Jesse's  smiling 
answer. 

"  If  you  have  learned  that,  then  indeed  are  you 
wiser  than  most  men,"  the  stranger  said,  with  stern,  un- 
smiling lips.  He  seemed  to  be  in  the  middle  twenties, 
though  his  thin  face  was  marked  by  deep  lines,  and  his  eyes 
blazed  with  the  fire  of  the  fanatic. 

"  Your  home  is  in  these  mountains  ?  "  Jesse  asked,  as 
he  held  his  cup  under  the  running  water. 

"  I  have  no  home,  nor  do  I  know  the  need  of  one." 

"  Maybe  the  world  is  your  home." 

"The  world  is  a  jungle  of  wild  beasts;  my  second  dear- 
est wish  is  to  escape  from  it." 

"  And  your  first  dearest  wish  ?  " 

"Shall  I  tell  that  to  a  stranger?" 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Jesse,  gently. 

The  man  looked  over  the  tops  of  the  trees.     "  You  speak 


io6          THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

the  language  of  the  world,"  he  said.  "  He  whom  I  seek 
shall  speak  the  language  of  the  spiritual  life." 

"  If  he  should  speak  the  language  of  some  other  planet, 
the  people  of  the  world  would  hardly  learn  of  him,"  was 
Jesse's  answer. 

"  His  words  shall  move  the  world."  The  enthusiast  un- 
covered his  head. 

"  And  how  will  you  know  when  you  find  the  one  whom 
you  seek?  " 

"  I  shall  know  him  by  the  glory  of  his  countenance." 

"  And  will  he  speak  the  word  of  love  ?  " 

"  He  will  speak  the  word  of  power." 

"  The  two  are  one,"  said  Jesse. 

"  I  have  not  found  it  so,"  the  man  replied. 

Jesse  looked  long  at  him.  "  Perhaps  that  is  the  lesson 
your  teacher  has  for  you." 

"  I  do  not  know  what  his  lesson  will  be.  I  shall  know 
him  by  the  glory  of  his  countenance,"  the  man  repeated. 

"Will  you  not  tell  me  your  name?"  Jesse  asked. 

"  My  name  is  John.  I  have  no  other."  But  he  did  not 
ask  the  name  of  his  companion  in  return. 

"  Have  you  sought  long  for  this  teacher?  " 

"  No ;  but  I  shall  seek  him  long — until  I  find  him." 

"  You  will  find  him  when  the  time  is  ripe,"  said  Jesse. 
"Take  my  good  wishes  with  you,  my  prayers." 

"  Thank  you,"  responded  the  stranger,  almost  warmly. 
Then  he  turned  abruptly  and  went  on  down  the  mountain 
road. 

Jesse  sat  for  a  long  time  on  the  rocks  beside  the  spring. 
The  chance  encounter  with  this  extraordinary  man  had 
moved  him  more  deeply  than  the  meeting  with  any  human 
being  had  ever  done  before.  Alien  and  unsocial  though 
the  stranger  was,  Jesse  felt  less  alone  in  the  world  for 
knowing  that  he  lived  in  it.  He,  too,  questioned  the  skies 
for  other  meanings  than  weather-omens;  he,  too,  was  pos- 
sessed by  an  idea,  had  given  himself,  without  fear  or  reser- 
vation, to  the  quest  of  the  unseen.  What  matter  though 
their  ways  were  different  ways?  One  sought  in  the  soli- 
tude of  the  mountain  the  master  with  the  shining  counte- 
nance who  should  speak  to  him  the  word  of  power;  the 
other  sought  in  the  depths  of  his  own  soul,  amid  the  noises 
and  emotions  of  every-day  human  life,  the  will  of  that  God 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL  107 

who  was  himself;  but  surely  they  two  would  meet  again 
at  the  goal.  Would  it  be  after  many  years?  For  some 
reason,  Jesse  thought  more  of  the  intensity  of  the  strange 
pilgrim's  quest  than  of  the  unknown  master  for  whom  he 
waited.  Jesse  was  not  looking  for  a  master.  "  I  am  the 
God  that  shall  answer  my  own  prayer,"  was  written  in  his 
book  of  meditations.  But  that  he  was  really  the  one  who 
should  fulfil  the  quest  of  the  wandering  John  did  not  en- 
ter his  mind  at  that  time. 

Half  a  mile  further  on  he  met  two  wood-cutters  walk- 
ing beside  a  load  of  logs,  and  stopped  to  speak  with  them. 

"  Do  you  know  anything  about  a  strange-looking  man 
with  long  black  hair,  dressed  in  grey,  who  passed  along  this 
road  about  an  hour  ago?"  he  asked. 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  the  woodman  who  was  driving  the 
team,  "  you  must  mean  John  the  Hermit.  No,  I  don't 
know  anything  about  him ;  nobody  does.  I  never  saw  him 
till  this  summer,  and  don't  know  where  he  came  from. 
Once  or  twice  he's  been  down  to  Wheelerville.  Some  folks 
think  he's  inspired,  like  those  old  fellows  in  the  Bible;  but 
most  folks  think  he's  crazy." 

"The  usual  fate  of  wise  men,"  said  Jesse,  half  to  him- 
self. 

"  He's  wiser  than  I  am,  anyway,"  said  the  woodman, 
"  for  he  seems  to  know  how  to  live  without  working.  Git 
up,  ponies ! "  The  horses  started ;  and  with  a  courteous 
"  good  afternoon,"  Jesse  walked  on. 

At  the  highest  point  in  the  road  which  wound  round  the 
shoulder  of  the  mountain  he  paused  again,  to  eat  his  lunch- 
eon. The  sun  was  now  at  the  meridian,  and  he  was  half- 
way to  Myra.  To  the  west  of  him  lay,  far  down,  the  fer- 
tile valley  of  the  Otter  Creek,  the  theatre  of  all  his  past;  to 
the  east  of  him,  about  seven  miles  away,  lay  Myra,  the  un- 
known village  of  his  childhood's  dreams,  the  scene  of  his 
immediate  future.  Something  was  waiting  for  him  there, 
some  revelation  which  should  answer  the  great  question  he 
was  always  asking — as  to  the  real  nature  of  the  mission 
that  was  calling  him.  Would  it  come  soon,  or  after  many 
years  ? 

He  sat  thinking  for  an  hour  beside  the  road,  then  rose 
and  rapidly  descended  the  eastern  slope  of  the  mountain. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

IT  was  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  when  he  saw  the 
church-spires  of  Myra  rising  over  the  tree-tops.  A  thrill 
passed  through  him,  his  step  quickened.  But  when  he 
came  to  the  cinder-path  at  the  end  of  a  long  street  shaded 
on  both  sides  by  elm  and  maple-trees,  he  went  more  slowly. 
A  little  further  on  he  met  two  middle-aged  men  in  frock- 
coats  and  silk  hats.  There  was  something  so  majestic  in 
the  bearing  of  the  young  workman,  that  the  two  instinc- 
tively made  way  for  him,  lifting  their  hats;  then  they 
looked  at  each  other  as  if  they  wondered  why  they  had 
done  it.  They  were  the  two  wealthiest  men  of  Myra. 

When  he  reached  the  main  street  of  the  village,  Jesse 
enquired  the  way  to  the  home  of  Rose  Thomas,  the  school- 
teacher "  from  over  the  mountain  "  who  had  taught  in 
Nashburgh  ten  years  before.  They  had  not  met  since  he 
was  eight  years  old.  She  lived  in  a  little  white  house  on 
a  quiet  side-street,  and  when  Jesse  went  up  the  path  to  the 
door  he  saw  her  standing  in  the  porch,  tall  and  slender  and 
still  dressed  in  blue,  as  in  the  old  days;  but  the  soft  hair 
round  her  placid  face  was  now  thickly  sprinkled  with  grey, 
and  there  were  shadows  under  her  eyes  and  at  the  corners 
of  her  mouth. 

"  Do  you  remember  me,  Miss  Thomas?"  Jesse  held  out 
his  hand. 

She  looked  at  him  a  moment,  then  a  smile  of  wondering 
surprise  lighted  her  face.  "  Why,  is  it — yes,  it  must  be 
Jesse  Bethel,  of  Nashburgh!  I  would  have  known  you 
anywhere,  and  yet — how  changed  you  are!  Come  right  into 
the  house,  and  tell  me  about  your  mother." 

He  followed  her  into  the  plain  little  sitting-room.  The 
windows  were  open,  and  the  white  muslin  curtains  fluttered 
in  the  breeze. 

They  talked  of  the  old  days,  of  the  Nashburgh  children, 
now  grown  men  and  women,  of  Jesse's  carpentry  work, 
and  of  his  plans  for  the  future  of  his  little  family. 

108 


THE   SON   OF   MARY   BETHEL          109 

"  I  often  think  of  the  strange  questions  you  used  to  ask 
me,"  she  said,  with  a  puzzled  smile.  "  Have  you  found 
out  yet  what  time  is  the  shadow  of  ?  " 

"No.     Have  you?" 

She  shook  her  head.  "  I  remember  also  how  you  used  to 
think  that  the  other  side  of  a  mountain  was  always  more 
beautiful  than  this  side.  Now  you  are  on  the  other  side, 
do  you  find  it  so  ?  " 

"  I  find  beauty  everywhere,  everywhere." 

"And  are  you  still  asking  questions?" 

"  Yes,  but  I  have  to  find  the  answers  for  myself." 

Jesse  enquired  of  her  about  a  boarding-place  where  he 
could  live  until  his  family  came;  but  she  would  not  hear  of 
his  staying  anywhere  but  in  her  home.  Was  he  not  one 
of  her  children?  Her  mother,  who  was  down  in  the  vil- 
lage, would  return  in  a  little  while.  Surely,  he  would 
stay  with  them?  And  so  he  promised,  thanking  her  with  a 
loving  smile. 

She  remembered  the  little  boy  who  used  to  rescue  cap- 
tured flies  from  the  cruel  fly-paper  where  they  struggled 
helplessly,  washing  their  sticky  legs  in  warm  water  and  set- 
ting them  free.  She  remembered  the  little  candy-box  filled 
with  cotton,  where  he  had  nursed  a  sick  and  broken  bird 
until  its  half-glazed  eyes  grew  bright  again  and  it  flew  away 
to  join  its  little  mates.  She  remembered  how  one  day  he 
had  reproved  her  timidly  for  striking  the  hands  of  dis- 
obedient Marty  White  with  her  wooden  ruler,  saying: 
"  God  doesn't  punish  you  when  you  are  disobedient.  For 
God  said,  '  Thou  shalt  not  kill,'  and  I  saw  you  stone  a 
harmless  little  garter-snake  to  death,  only  yesterday."  She 
had  not  killed  a  snake  since  that  day,  though  the  region 
around  Myra  was  infested  with  them.  All  these  things 
she  recalled  to  his  memory,  as  they  sat  quietly  together  in 
the  little  muslin-curtained  room,  waiting  for  her  mother's 
return. 

When  at  last  the  old  lady  came,  she  was  delighted  with 
Jesse.  She  made  hot  biscuits  for  his  supper  with  her  own 
skilful  hands,  and  drew  generously  on  her  store  of  honey 
and  fruit-cake. 

That  night  he  wrote  a  long  letter  to  his  mother,  adding 
as  a  postscript:  "  Do  not  fear  the  future,  nor  the  inhospi- 


i  io          THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

tality  of  strange  places.  Had  your  spirit  been  afraid  of 
change,  you  had  never  dared  the  immense  uncertainty  of 
being  born." 

The  next  morning  he  went  out  to  look  for  a  home  for  his 
family,  and  walked  directly,  as  if  guided  thither,  to  a  small 
unoccupied  house  on  the  outskirts  of  the  village.  He  found 
the  owner,  inspected  the  premises,  engaged  them  for  a  year 
with  privilege  of  indefinite  renewal,  and  wrote  again  to  his 
mother  about  the  result  of  the  morning's  quest,  all  in  the 
space  of  an  hour. 

That  afternoon  he  found  work  on  a  large  office  building 
which  was  being  erected  on  the  main  street  of  the  town, 
and  the  second  morning  saw  him  busy  at  his  trade,  just 
forty  hours  after  his  arrival  in  Myra. 

Ten  days  later  his  mother  and  the  boys  came,  and  their 
life  flowed  on  as  calmly  and  simply  as  in  Nashburgh. 

"  How  easy  it  is  to  change  your  place  in  the  world — 
if  only  you're  not  afraid,"  said  Mary  Bethel  one  day, 
with  a  fond  look  at  Jesse. 

"  Do  you  know,  Mother,"  he  answered,  "  that  the 
philosophers  say  there  is  only  one  constant  thing  in  the  uni- 
verse, and  that  is — constant  change  ?  " 

A  strange  light  came  into  Mary's  eyes.  "  I  suppose  it's 
almost  wicked  to  say  so,"  she  said,  "  but  it  seems  to  me 
sometimes  that  I  learn  more  from  you  than  I  learn  out  of 
the  Bible." 

During  the  first  year  of  his  stay  in  Myra,  Jesse  was 
much  alone  in  his  leisure  hours.  He  had  a  room  to  him- 
self in  their  little  house;  and  as  he  was  the  bread-winner 
of  the  family,  his  right  to  solitude  in  the  evening  was  never 
questioned.  That  winter  he  read  the  Bible  again  from  be- 
ginning to  end,  making  a  special  study  of  the  Psalms,  the 
Proverbs,  Isaiah,  and  Job. 

In  the  Psalms  he  marked  many  passages,  including  these: 

"  Commune  with  your  own  heart  upon  your  bed,   and  be  still." 
"  Thy  gentleness  hath  made  me  great." 

"  As  the  hart  panteth  after  the  water  brooks,  so  panteth  my 
soul  after  thee,  O  God." 

"Be  still,  and  know  that  I  am  God." 


THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL  in 

"  In  the  multitude  of  ray  thoughts  within  me  thy  comforts 
delight  my  soul." 

"  Thou  hidest  thy  face,  they  are  troubled :  thou  takest  away 
their  breath,  they  die,  and  return  to  their  dust.  Thou  sendest 
forth  thy  spirit,  they  are  created." 

"  Except  the  Lord  build  the  house,  they  labour  in  vain  that 
build  it." 

Among  the  Proverbs  he  underscored  this  one  for  his  spe- 
cial meditation :  "  Drink  waters  out  of  thine  own  cistern, 
and  running  waters  out  of  thine  own  well." 

And  this  verse  from  the  eighteenth  chapter  reminded  him 
of  Lao-tsze :  "  Before  destruction  the  heart  of  man  is 
haughty,  and  before  honour  is  humility." 

The  Book  of  Job,  from  the  thirty-eighth  chapter  to  the 
end  of  the  forty-first,  affected  him  so  powerfully  that  he 
was  never  able  to  read  it  without  falling  on  his  face  in 
humility  and  adoration  before  the  Lord  that  answered  out 
of  the  whirlwind.  In  those  four  chapters  he  found  what 
seemed  to  him  to  be  the  most  sublime  poetry  he  had  ever 
read.  Surely,  he  thought,  the  language  of  man  here  reached 
its  apogee,  never  again  to  be  approached  until  the  great 
incalculable  cycle  of  genius  swings  round  the  zodiac  of 
Time. 

Here  are  a  few  fragments  from  that  masterpiece,  which 
Jesse  read  over  and  over: 

"Then  the  Lord  answered  Job  out  of  the  whirlwind,  and  said, 

"  Who  is  this  that  darkeneth  counsel  by  words  without  knowl- 
edge? 

"  Gird  up  now  thy  loins  like  a  man ;  for  I  will  demand  of  thee, 
and  answer  thou  me. 

"Where  wast  thou  when  I  laid  the  foundations  of  the  earth? 
declare,  if  thou  hast  understanding. 

"Who  hath  laid  the  measures  thereof,  if  thou  knowest?  or  who 
hath  stretched  the  line  upon  it? 

"  Whereupon  are  the  foundations  thereof  fastened  ?  or  who  laid 
the  corner  stone  thereof; 

"  When  the  morning  stars  sang  together,  and  all  the  sons  of 
God  shouted  for  joy? 

"  Or  who  shut  up  the  sea  with  doors,  when  it  brake  forth, 
as  if  it  had  issued  out  of  the  womb? 

"  When  I  made  the  cloud  the  garment  thereof,  and  thick  dark- 
ness a  swaddlingband  for  it, 


ii2          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"  And  brake  up  for  it  my  decreed  place,  and  set  bars  and  doors, 
"And  said,  Hitherto  shalt  thou  come,  but  no  further:  and  here 

shall  thy  proud  waves  be  stayed? 

"  Hast  thou  commanded  the  morning  since  thy  days ;  and  caused 

the  dayspring  to  know  his  place? 

"Hast  thou  entered  into  the  springs  of  the  sea?  or  hast  thou 
walked  in  the  search  of  the  depth? 

"Have  the  gates  of  death  been  opened  unto  thee?  or  hast  thou 
seen  the  door  of  the  shadow  of  death? 

"  Hast  thou  perceived  the  breadth  of  the  earth  ?  declare  if  thou 
knowest  it  all. 

"  Where  is  the  way  where  light  dwelleth  ?  and  as  for  dark- 
ness, where  is  the  place  thereof, 

"  That  thou  shouldst  take  it  to  the  bound  thereof,  and  that 
thou  shouldst  know  the  paths  to  the  house  thereof? 

"Knowest  thou  it,  because  thou  wast  then  born?  or  because 
the  number  of  thy  days  is  great? 

"  Hast  thou  entered  into  the  treasures  of  the  snow  ?  or  hast 
thou  seen  the  treasures  of  the  hail, 

"  Which  I  have  reserved  against  the  time  of  trouble,  against 
the  day  of  battle  and  war? 

"  By  what  way  is  the  light  parted,  which  scattereth  the  east 
wind  upon  the  earth? 

"  Who  hath  divided  a  watercourse  for  the  overflowing  of  waters, 
or  a  way  for  the  lightning  of  thunder; 

"  To  cause  it  to  rain  on  the  earth,  where  no  man  is ;  on  the 
wilderness,  wherein  there  is  no  man; 

"  To  satisfy  the  desolate  and  waste  ground ;  and  to  cause  the 
bud  of  the  tender  herb  to  spring  forth? 

"Hath  the  rain  a  father?  or  who  hath  begotten  the  drops 
of  dew  ? 

"  Out  of  whose  womb  came  the  ice  ?  and  the  hoary  frost  of 
heaven,  who  hath  gendered  it? 

"The  waters  are  hid  as  with  a  stone,  and  the  face  of  the 
deep  is  frozen. 

"  Canst  thou  bind  the  sweet  influences  of  Pleiades,  or  loose  the 
bands  of  Orion? 

"  Canst  thou  bring  forth  Mazzaroth  in  his  season  ?  or  canst 
thou  guide  Arcturus  with  his  sons? 

"  Knowest  thou  the  ordinances  of  heaven  ?  canst  thou  set  the 
dominion  thereof  in  the  earth? 

"  Canst  thou  lift  up  thy  voice  to  the  clouds,  that  abundance  of 
waters  may  cover  thee? 

"  Canst  thou  send  lightnings,  that  they  may  go,  and  say  unto 
thee,  Here  we  are? 


THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL  113 

"Who  hath  put  wisdom  in  the  inward  parts?  or  who  hath 
given  understanding  to  the  heart? 

"  Who  can  number  the  clouds  in  wisdom  ?  or  who  can  stay  the 
bottles  of  heaven, 

"  When  the  dust  groweth  into  hardness,  and  the  clods  cleave 
fast  together? 

"  Doth  the  hawk  fly  by  thy  wisdom,  and  stretch  her  wings 
toward  the  south  ? 

"  Doth  the  eagle  mount  up  at  thy  command,  and  make  her 
nest  on  high? 

"Hast  thou  an  arm  like  God?  or  canst  thou  thunder  with  a 
voice  like  him?" 


CHAPTER   XVII 

ONE  evening  in  the  following  January,  about  a  month 
after  his  nineteenth  birthday,  Jesse  received  a  strange  and 
half-incoherent  letter  from  Mary  Magnus.  It  was  post- 
marked Los  Angeles,  California;  but  there  was  no  ad- 
dress enclosed  to  which  he  might  reply.  Here  is  the  letter: 

"  Jesse,  incomprehensible  one :  I,  too,  can  talk  philosophy,  like 
you,  even  when  the  waves  of  emotion  are  breaking  over  my 
heart:  The  inevitable  always  comes  to  pass.  Have  you  learned 
that,  I  wonder,  in  your  studies  of  old  books?  I  have  learned  it 
of  life,  red  life;  I  learned  it  even  to-night. 

"It  is  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  now;, but  sleep  is  far  from 
my  eyelids.  Maybe  I  shall  sleep  to-morrow — next  week — it  is 
no  matter.  But  to-night  I  must  write  to  you.  I  can  see  you  in 
imagination,  bending  your  beautiful  still  face  over  this  letter. 
Will  it  be  so  still  when  you  have  read  it  all  ?  For  I  have  things 
to  tell  you  which  I  believe  no  girl  ever  wrote  to  one  like  you 
before.  Girl,  did  I  say?  It  seems  to  me  I  should  be  called  a 
woman  now,  though  I  am  still  so  young. 

"  Surely  my  faith  in  you  is  a  great  faith — my  faith  in  your 
sympathy  and  understanding,  at  least.  For  I  think  you  are  not 
really  so  cold  and  far-off  as  you  seem.  The  incomprehensible  one 
you  are  to  me,  and  will  ever  remain ;  but  I  am  not  afraid  to 
have  you  comprehend  me.  You  must  be  very  great  to  have 
left  me  with  that  feeling,  after  all  your — no,  I  started  to  say  your 
cruelty,  but  you  have  never  been  cruel  to  me.  Perhaps  it  was 
I,  after  all,  that  was  cruel  to  you.  Who  knows?  for  are  you  not 
the  incomprehensible  one? 

"  Oh,  Jesse ! — turn  away  your  face  while  I  say  it,  for  I  can- 
not bear  your  eyes — /  have  given  myself  to  a  man.  Do  you  know 
what  I  mean?  No,  I  am  not  married,  nor  shall  I  ever  marry. 
/  will  not.  Oh,  yes,  the  man  loves  me!  But — can  you  understand 
this? — I  do  not  love  him,  not  as  I  understand  love,  and  I  am  not 
unlearned.  Of  course  I  do  not  really  mean  that  I  do  not  love 
him,  for  I  do — yes,  very  much.  But  I  think  you  understand. 

"  What  is  my  life  going  to  be  ?  I  do  not  know.  Perhaps  I 
was  never  destined  to  be  good,  perhaps  I  shall  be  very  bad; 

1 14 


THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL  115 

but,  somehow,  I  do  not  feel  bad  at  all — not  even  to-night.  On 
the  contrary.  .  .  .  But  maybe  you  will  not  understand 
this.  Do  you?  If  so,  you  are,  indeed,  very  great;  but  I  always 
knew  that  you  were  very  great. 

"  Pardon  the  blots  on  this  letter,  Jesse.  I  have  been  crying 
since  the  first  word.  I  don't  know  why  I  am  crying;  for  I  am 
not  sorry  at  all — I  am  glad.  The  inevitable  always  comes  to 
pass. 

"  What  are  you  doing  now,  I  wonder  ?  Are  you  still  study- 
ing that  old  Chinaman  with  the  unrememberable  name  ?  I  never 
could  study  Chinamen,  not  even  dead  ones,  so  I  study  live  Cau- 
casians. (This  is  not  meant  in  recklessness,  but  seriously.) 

"  What  puzzles  me  most  is  that  I  do  not  feel  at  all  wicked. 
I  expected  to  feel  wicked.  Why,  I  even  said  a  prayer  a  little 
while  ago,  for  the  first  time  in  weeks  and  weeks;  but  perhaps  that 
was  because  I  was  going  to  write  to  you.  I  think — really  I  do — 
that  if  I  could  have  seen  you  sometimes  and  had  you  talk  your 
beautiful  thoughts  to  me,  I  could  have  been  good.  I  don't  mean 
merely  not  bad,  but  truly  good,  actively  good.  I've  always  given 
away  half  my  pocket-money,  and  to-morrow  I'm  going  to  buy 
a  soft  new  mattress  for  an  old  sick  woman  whom  our  doctor 
visits  for  charity. 

"  Oh,  Jesse,  Jesse !  I  have  been  so  unhappy !  Can  you  imagine 
what  it  is  to  have  one  face  always  between  you  and  the  sun- 
light— a  face  which  is  not  for  you?  I  have  tried  so  hard  to  for- 
get. Perhaps  now  I  shall  be  able  to  forget — now  I  have  built 
a  solid  wall  between  me  and  the  cause  of  my  unhappiness.  For 
this  is  a  solid  wall — O,  an  impenetrable  wall ! — and  this  letter  is 
the  last  great  stone  in  it.  Yes,  now  when  I  have  made  it  impos- 
sible that  you  should  ever  love  me,  perhaps  I  shall  be  able  to 
forget  you. 

"Why  have  I  done  this  thing?  Because  I  must  love  somebody. 
I  must  be  loved  by  somebody,  must  feel  something  near  me. 
My  heart  is  too  full,  my  love  is  a  burden  too  heavy  to  carry. 

"  Do  not  write  to  me — do  not  answer  this  letter.  There  is 
nothing  you  can  say  that  will  not  be  more  cruel  than  silence. 

"  MARY." 

The  letter  dazed  him.  Three  times  he  read  it  over, 
then  burnt  it.  He  had  been  afraid  for  Mary  ever  since 
that  summer  night  in  her  father's  garden;  things  she  had 
said  still  haunted  him  with  dark  premonitions.  After 
burning  the  letter  he  sat  a  long  time  with  his  head  between 
his  hands.  His  pity  and  grief  were  coloured  by  a  touch 
of  virgin  shame,  new  and  unwelcome.  With  all  his 


u6          THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

subtlety  for  analysis,  he  did  not  try  to  analyse  the  feeling. 
But  he  did  not  murmur  any  cant  phrases  about  virtue  and 
self-control;  his  mind  was  of  a  different  order,  and  he 
knew  the  meaning  of  virtue  and  self-control,  known  least 
by  those  who  talk  about  them  most. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

EVERY  Sunday  afternoon  during  the  winter  Jesse  went 
to  see  Rose  Thomas,  if  only  for  a  little  while.  She  was 
teaching  in  a  small  town  a  few  miles  away,  but  came  home 
to  Myra  at  the  week's  end ;  and  he  enjoyed  his  hours  with 
her  more  than  those  spent  with  any  other  person.  Her 
pale  face,  under  the  prematurely  greying  hair,  had  still  the 
soft  contours  of  youth;  but  about  the  corners  of  her  mouth 
and  in  her  eyes  there  was  a  wistful  sadness,  a  shadow  as 
of  some  secret  grief.  Like  most  New  England  women, 
she  was  rather  reticent  of  her  deeper  feelings,  and  her 
talks  with  Jesse  were  generally  about  impersonal  things. 
Ardent  and  faithful  as  she  was  in  her  religion,  she  had  con- 
fessed to  him  that  often  doubts  assailed  her  as  to  certain 
dogmas  of  the  church.  Among  other  things,  the  doctrine 
of  vicarious  atonement  puzzled  her;  it  failed  to  tally  with 
her  ideas  of  individual  responsibility.  There  was  a  touch 
of  hardness  in  her  nature,  an  exaggeration  of  the  sense  of 
justice,  not  uncommon  in  conscientious  persons  who  have 
never  known  the  need  of  real  forgiveness.  Her  only  se- 
rious failing  seemed  to  be  an  occasional  lack  of  charity  in 
judgment.  Jesse  perceived  this  flaw  in  his  old  friend,  even 
as  others  did;  but  seeing  deeper  than  they,  he  knew  the 
hidden  cause — some  secret  disappointment,  some  long  and 
patient  hope  yet  unfulfilled. 

One  Sunday  afternoon  in  early  spring  he  asked  Rose  to 
go  with  him  after  the  trailing  arbutus,  then  beginning  to 
show  its  hopeful  stars  among  the  withered  leaves.  She 
was  delighted,  having  few  pleasures  and  fewer  outings;  and 
they  gaily  started  for  the  woods,  like  two  children,  in  the 
softening  April  air.  In  an  hour  they  had  filled  their 
baskets  with  the  pink  and  white  waxen  blossoms;  but  hav- 
ing no  mind  to  return  so  early  to  the  village,  they  found  a 
large  flat  rock  in  an  open  space  flooded  with  sunshine,  and 
sat  down  for  a  talk. 

117 


ii8          THE   SON   OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"When  will  your  school  be  out,  Miss  Rose?"  asked 
Jesse,  as  he  spread  a  shawl  for  her  on  the  rock. 

"The  middle  of  June;  then  I  shall  be  at  home  with 
mother,  till  I  have  to  go  back  in  the  fall." 

"  What  a  pity  it  is,"  he  said,  "  that  you  have  not  a 
place  in  the  graded  school  of  Myra.  I  know  two  or  three 
of  the  teachers  here,  and  they  have  neither  your  knowledge 
nor  your  experience.  Why  is  it,  Miss  Rose?  " 

She  flushed,  and  a  look  that  was  half  pain,  half  resent- 
ment, came  into  her  gentle  eyes.  "  I  don't  know,"  she  an- 
swered, in  a  low  tone.  "  I  have  made  application  more 
than  once;  but  I  am  always  set  aside  for  younger  women. 
I  shall  not  apply  again,  unless — unless  I  change  my  mind." 

They  were  only  a  few  simple  words,  but  in  them  was 
the  history  of  a  soul.  To  the  country  schoolma'am,  an 
appointment  in  the  graded  school  of  Myra  meant  the  goal 
of  a  life's  ambition.  Jesse  felt  in  the  space  of  a  heart- 
beat all  the  sadness  of  the  years  of  waiting  to  this  woman 
who  had  nothing  else  to  wait  for;  he  realised  the  bitterness 
of  hope  deferred,  the  bitterness  of  seeing  younger  and 
prettier  women  in  the  place  which  she  felt  to  be  hers  by 
right  of  service  and  essential  fitness.  Poor  Rose  Thomas! 
He  felt  a  tightening  in  his  throat,  and  he  did  not  look  at 
her,  but  out  across  the  leafless  trees.  He  knew,  rather  than 
saw,  that  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears;  and  he  understood 
the  pride,  the  reticence  of  the  heart  that  seeks  to  hide  its 
grief  from  even  the  eyes  of  those  it  loves  most. 

Suddenly  there  swept  over  him  the  most  powerful  per- 
sonal desire  that  he  had  ever  known,  the  desire  that  this 
patient,  half-embittered,  love-cheated  woman  at  his  side 
should  have — should  have — the  one  thing  which  yet  re- 
mained for  her  of  hope  and  pride  and  satisfaction. 

"  You  must  have  it!" 

In  the  rush  of  emotion  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  stood 
with  his  back  to  her,  looking  straight  out  into  space.  He 
had  no  realisation  of  what  he  was  doing,  knew  naught  but 
his  indomitable  desire.  The  woman  gazed  up  at  him  in 
wonderment.  His  whole  body  seemed  to  expand.  Out- 
lined against  the  western  sky,  he  seemed  the  centre  of  a 
great  effulgence  that  radiated  from  him,  as  light  from  a 
candle-flame.  She  passed  her  hand. across  her  eyes,  think- 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL  119 

ing  the  appearance  was  some  freak  of  defective  vision;  but 
the  illusion  still  remained,  the  light  was  still  around  him. 

She  called  to  him: 

"  Jesse." 

He  seemed  not  to  hear  her,  and  again  she  called: 

"  Jesse." 

Still  he  did  not  move,  but  stood  like  one  transfixed,  gaz- 
ing straight  out.  Then  slowly  the  effulgence  round  his 
body  faded,  his  form  relaxed;  and,  after  a  moment,  he 
turned  and  sat  down  beside  her  on  the  rock.  He  spoke  of 
the  beauty  of  the  western  sky  in  a  voice  so  gentle  that  it 
was  a  revelation  even  to  Rose,  who  knew  his  gentlest 
moods.  The  force  of  his  thought  had  been  an  arrow  aimed 
straight,  and  the  bow-string  was  vibrant  still. 

She  made  no  reference  to  his  moment  of  abstraction,  said 
not  a  word  about  the  luminous  ovoid  she  had  seen  around 
him.  He  was  to  her  an  extraordinary  being,  a  being  in 
whose  presence  any  strange  thing  might  happen;  and 
though  they  spoke  now  only  of  impersonal  subjects — the 
sky,  the  early  spring,  the  arbutus  in  the  baskets  at  their 
feet — the  eyes  she  turned  to  his  were  full  of  vague  question- 
ing. They  sat  for  some  time  longer  on  the  rock  in  the 
sunshine;  then  Rose  remembered  that  she  had  promised  her 
mother  to  get  their  supper  at  five  o'clock,  and  they  started 
homeward. 

That  evening  about  eight  o'clock  Jesse  was  sitting  with 
his  mother  beside  the  grate-fire.  The  two  younger  boys 
were  down  in  the  village.  Mary  Bethel  was  bending 
over  the  fragrant  arbutus  which  Jesse  had  brought  home 
to  her,  touching  the  green  leaves  softly  and  inhaling  the 
fragrance  of  the  blossoms.  She  was  happy.  On  week- 
days Jesse  usually  read  alone  in  his  own  room  until  bed- 
time; but  Sunday  evenings  he  always  gave  to  his  mother, 
and  she  looked  forward  to  those  hours  of  quiet  communion 
the  whole  week  long.  That  evening  he  had  been  reading 
aloud  one  of  her  favourite  Bible  stories,  the  story  of  Ruth 
and  Naomi. 

Suddenly  the  outer  door  was  opened,  without  even  an 
announcing  knock,  and  Rose  Thomas  burst  into  the  room, 
breathless  from  running.  Mother  and  son  both  sprang  to 
their  feet,  startled,  fearing  they  knew  not  what;  but  one 


120          THE   SON    OF  MARY   BETHEL 

look  into  her  face  reassured  them.  Her  eyes  were  alight 
with  a  flame  of  joy  they  had  never  before  seen  there.  She 
threw  her  arms  about  them  both,  laughing,  crying,  half- 
hysterical. 

"  They've  given  me  the  school,"  she  cried,  "  the  fourth 
grade,  over  both  the  Manning  girls,  and  I'm  so  happy — 
I'm  so  happy !  " 

Jesse  drew  Rose  into  a  chair  beside  the  table.  '"'Tell  us 
all  about  it,"  he  said,  quietly. 

Rose  wiped  the  tears  from  her  eyes;  her  voice  was 
unsteady,  her  sentences  broken  by  little  catches  of  the 
breath. 

"  I  heard  about  it  this  evening,  right  after  supper.  Judge 
Evans  came  over  to  see  me,  with  the  principal.  The  teacher 
there  now  is  going  to  be  married,  she  sent  in  her  resigna- 
tion one  day  last  week.  They  had  a  talk  this  afternoon, 
the  school  board,  I  mean, — an  informal  talk,  it  being  Sun- 
day. They  didn't  know  whom  to  have,  when  suddenly 
someone  suggested  me — me — and  like  a  flash  they  all 
agreed  to  it.  There  wasn't  even  any  opposition  from  any- 
body. And  they're  going  to  have  a  regular  meeting  to- 
morrow and  appoint  me." 

"  I  am  so  glad,"  said  Mary  Bethel,  her  soft  eyes  full  of 
sympathetic  tears.  "  Oh,  Rose,  I  am  so  glad ! " 

"  You  don't  know  what  it  means  to  me,"  the  teacher 
went  on.  "  I've  wanted  this  for  years,  have  asked  for  it 
till  I  was  ashamed  to  ask  again.  And  now,  to  be  put  in 
the  fourth  grade  at  the  very  beginning!  They  might  have 
advanced  the  Manning  girls  and  made  me  begin  with  the 
little  children,  and  they  didn't,  they  didn't.  It's  unheard 
of — it's  a  miracle !  " 

"  Miracles  don't  happen  in  our  days,"  smiled  Mary 
Bethel,  shaking  her  head. 

"Oh!  don't  they?"  Rose  leaned  forward  in  her  chair, 
grasping  the  arm  of  Mary,  and  speaking  with  subdued  ex- 
citement. "  I  tell  you  it's  a  miracle.  And  he  did  it — he — 
Jesse,  your  son!  He  did  this  thing  for  me." 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  Mary  gasped. 

Rose  told  her,  in  quick,  broken  sentences,  of  the  talk  be- 
tween her  and  Jesse  that  very  afternoon ;  told  her  of  Jesse's 
fiery  declaration  that  she  must  have  the  school;  told  of  his 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          121 

leaping  to  his  feet  as  he  said  it,  and  how  he  stood  there 
tall  and  straight  and  vibrant,  with  the  golden  light  all 
round  his  form;  how  she  had  called  to  him  twice  without 
his  hearing  her. 

"  He  did  it,"  she  declared,  again,  "  he  did  it  with  his 
mind,  his  will.  You  can't  make  me  believe  he  didn't!" 

Mary  gazed  in  bewilderment  from  one  to  the  other. 
"  Why — how "  she  began,  "  I  don't  understand.  .  ." 

But  Jesse  had  suddenly  left  the  room,  closing  the  door 
behind  him.  He  went  out  under  the  night  sky,  his  heart 
pounding  in  his  breast,  his  breath  quick,  beads  of  sweat 
standing  cold  on  his  forehead.  He  knew  it  was  true;  knew 
that  the  great  dynamo  of  his  will  had  moved  those  absent 
men,  driving  them  in  the  direction  of  his  thought.  And 
he  had  not  realised  that  he  was  doing  it.  He  had  known 
the  depth  of  his  unselfish  desire,  but  had  not  known 
its  potency.  The  case  of  Marty  White,  back  there  in 
Nashburgh,  came  to  his  memory  now;  he  recalled  the  un- 
expected outcome  of  that  threatening  incident,  when  he  had 
put  his  mind  against  it.  Then  also  he  had  been  moved  by 
love,  moved  to  desire  the  seemingly  impossible  for  one  he 
loved. 

Could  such  power  really  be  his?  The  answer  followed 
the  question  as  light  follows  flame:  Such  power  was  his. 
Inexplicable  as  it  might  seem,  this  mighty  engine  of  des- 
tiny was  hidden  in  his  heart.  And  the  power  was  his  to 
use — in  any  way  he  chose.  Again  the  words  which  had  so 
mightily  affected  him  years  before  came  back  with  new  and 
deeper  meanings:  "  God  is  the  Power,  and  I  am  the  ex- 
pression of  the  Power." 

Half  an  hour  later  Jesse  returned  to  the  room  where 
the  two  women  sat  together.  He  was  very  quiet,  and  in  a 
low,  firm  tone  he  charged  them  that  they  should  tell  no  one 
of  the  occurrence  of  the  afternoon.  They  promised,  and 
the  promise  was  kept  for  a  long  time;  though  this  was  one 
of  the  stories  widely  told  of  him  in  after  years. 

Walking  home  with  Rose  that  evening,  after  a  little 
silence  he  turned  to  her  suddenly: 

"Has  what  you  believe  to  have  happened  this  afternoon 
any  influence  on  your  doubts  regarding  the  theory  of  vica- 
rious atonement  ?  " 


122          THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

"  How  strange!  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  was  asking  my- 
self that  very  question,  before  you  spoke." 

"  You  know,"  he  went  on,  "  that  though  we  seem  to  our- 
selves to  be  separate,  we  are  really  all  one,  you  and  I  and 
everybody  living.  And  we  are  always  suffering,  and  en- 
joying, and  achieving,  and  atoning,  not  only  for  ourselves 
but  for  one  another." 


BOOK    II 
THE    PREPARATION 


CHAPTER   XIX 

FOR  several  years  Jesse  lived  quietly  with  his  family  in 
Myra,  working  at  his  trade  in  the  daytime  and  in  the 
evening  studying  and  reading  many  books.  At  this  period 
of  his  life  he  was  almost  a  recluse,  going  about  but  little 
among  his  fellows.  It  was  only  in  after  years  that  he  be- 
gan to  frequent  the  places  where  men  and  women  congre- 
gated, testing  his  philosophy  by  practical  application,  view- 
ing his  reflection  in  the  eyes  of  varied  individuals.  Dur- 
ing the  early  months  in  Myra  he  used  to  go  to  church  with 
his  mother  on  Sunday  morning;  but  as  time  went  on  he 
gradually  discontinued  these  visits  to  the  temples  of  con- 
ventional worship.  The  two  younger  boys  were  now  self- 
supporting,  the  first  a  carpenter  with  Jesse,  the  other  a 
clerk  in  one  of  the  village  stores.  Thus  relieved  of  a  part 
of  his  burden,  Jesse  even  accumulated  a  little  money,  the 
savings  from  his  meagre  wages;  only  a  few  hundred  dol- 
lars, but  the  money  was  his  own,  to  be  used  for  any  pur- 
pose he  might  deem  important. 

In  January  of  the  year  after  his  twenty-third  birthday, 
Jesse  told  his  mother  one  morning  that  he  had  decided  to 
go  down  to  New  York  for  three  months,  to  read  in  the 
great  library;  and  that  he  would  return  about  the  first 
of  April,  in  time  for  the  busy  season  of  spring  work  with 
the  village  carpenters.  Mary  was  surprised,  even  vaguely 
alarmed;  but  to  oppose  Jesse's  will  was  beyond  her  cour- 
age. He  had  done  his  duty  by  her,  and  his  right  to  choose 
his  future  way  was  not  to  be  questioned. 

"  I  shall  miss  you  sadly,  dear,"  was  her  answer  to  his 
strange  announcement.  New  York  seemed  very  far  away 
to  Mary  Bethel.  She  made  no  reference  to  what  seemed 
to  her  a  reckless  expenditure  of  money,  for  was  not  the 
money  Jesse's  own?  Indeed,  she  prided  herself  a  little  on 
her  reticence  in  this  regard.  To  the  imaginative  woman 
there  was  a  tremulous  satisfaction  in  the  idea  of  her  dear 
one's  seeing  something  of  the  great  outer  world. 

125 


126          THE   SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

"  I  wish  I  were  going  with  you,"  she  said  wistfully,  a 
day  or  two  later. 

He  looked  long  at  her,  answering  nothing.  But  that 
evening  he  followed  her  into  the  kitchen  where  she  was 
preparing  their  supper. 

"  Little  mother,"  he  said,  putting  his  arms  around  her 
shoulders,  "  I've  been  considering  what  you  said  this  morn- 
ing. You  shall  come  down  for  a  week  at  the  end  of  my 
stay  in  New  York,  and  we  will  return  together." 

Mary  wept  with  joy,  as  she  had  wept  that  time,  nearly 
fifteen  years  before,  when  her  husband  had  followed  her 
into  the  bedroom  to  say  that  she  could  go  to  the  Grove 
camp-meeting  and  take  Jesse. 

On  the  railway  journey  between  Myra  and  New  York, 
many  persons  wondered  who  was  the  tall  and  singularly 
beautiful  young  man  who  seemed  to  be  so  busy  with  his 
thoughts  and  with  the  whirling  view  outside  the  carriage 
window. 

During  the  afternoon  one  of  Jesse's  fellow  travellers 
made  overtures  to  acquaintance.  He  was  a  young  man  of 
the  small,  dark,  nervous  type  of  city  clerk,  well-dressed 
and  rather  commonplace,  the  kind  one  meets  by  thousands 
in  the  business  quarters  of  the  city. 

"  It's  tiresome  riding  all  day  long,"  he  observed,  slipping 
into  the  seat  beside  Jesse,  who  welcomed  him  with  a  friendly 
smile. 

"  I  do  not  find  it  so.  But  I  never  find  anything  tire- 
some, not  even  my  daily  work." 

''  You  are  an  unusual  man,  to  enjoy  work.  But  your 
business  may  be  a  specially  pleasant  one." 

"  I  am  a  carpenter,"  was  Jesse's  answer. 

The  stranger  turned  to  look  at  him.  "  Pardon  me," 
he  said,  "  but  you  are  not  the  usual  type  of  working- 
man." 

Jesse  smiled.  "  Is  there  a  type,  then  ?  I  have  never 
found  two  individuals  alike,  either  among  workingmen  or 
others." 

In  answer  to  his  companion's  inquiry,  Jesse  told  the  pur- 
pose of  his  visit  to  New  York  and  the  probable  length  of 
his  sojourn,  adding:  "You  know  the  city  well,  while  I 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          127 

know  It  not  at  all;  perhaps  you  can  advise  me  where  to  go 
on  my  arrival,  some  quiet  place  within  my  means." 

The  young  man  looked  at  him  a  moment,  then  said,  with 
sudden  conviction :  "  Why  don't  you  come  and  board 
with  my  mother  and  me?  We  have  an  extra  room  in  our 
flat,  a  small  one,  but  sunny  and  pleasant.  You're  just  the 
sort  of  man  I'd  like  to  have  around."  He  mentioned  as  the 
price  of  the  room  a  modest  sum,  judged  by  New  York 
standards  of  comparison,  and  one  which  did  not  seem  un- 
reasonably large  to  Jesse. 

"  Is  your  home  within  walking  distance  of  the  large  li- 
brary? "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  ten  minutes'  walk,"  the  young  man  answered, 
naming  a  street  in  the  Washington  Square  district. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Jesse,  "  I  will  come,  with  pleasure." 

He  had  none  of  the  countryman's  distrust  of  the  city  or 
the  men  of  the  city,  and  he  knew  the  human  soul  too  well 
to  fear  anything  from  the  steady  brown  eyes  of  his  new  ac- 
quaintance. 

"  It's  strange,"  he  said,  half  to  himself,  "  but  the  thing 
I  need  always  comes  to  me."  Then  he  added,  "  By  the 
way,  you  haven't  told  me  your  name.  I  am  Jesse  Bethel." 

"  And  I  am  Lawrence  Lane." 

Jesse  knew  in  figures  the  magnitude  of  New  York;  but 
he  was  nevertheless  impressed  by  the  mile  after  mile  of 
closely-builded  streets  their  train  passed  through  before 
reaching  the  Grand  Central  Station.  In  every  one  of  these 
innumerable  houses  were  human  beings  like  himself,  sad 
or  happy  or  indifferent,  swarming  in  the  monstrous  ant- 
hill called  the  Empire  City.  What  knew  they  of  him — 
what  cared  they?  He  was  glad  to  have  Lawrence  Lane  be- 
side him,  glad  that  he  had  a  home  to  go  to  in  this  teeming 
maze. 

The  bustle  about  the  station  filled  him  with  vague  ex- 
citement. He  smiled,  remembering  the  rough  platform  at 
the  Grove  camp-ground,  where  he  had  experienced  a  sim- 
ilar feeling  at  the  age  of  eight.  How  different  the  two 
scenes!  His  reminiscent  thoughts  were  scattered  by  the 
business-like  voice  of  his  companion. 

"  We'll  take  the  Sixth  Avenue  Elevated  down-town,  and 
you  can  send  for  your  trunk  in  the  morning.  I've  been 


128 

away  nearly  a  week  on  business  for  the  firm  I  work  for, 
and  Mother  will  be  watching  for  me  from  the  window. 
She  always  thinks  I've  been  run  over  by  a  car  if  I'm  ten 
minutes  late  in  getting  home.  It's  the  way  of  mothers." 

"  Very  like  my  own,"  said  Jesse.  He  was  glad  to  be 
going  to  a  place  where  a  mother  watched  for  her  son  from 
the  window. 

Mrs.  Lane,  after  the  moment  of  surprise  at  seeing  Jesse, 
gave  him  a  kind  and  almost  motherly  welcome.  All  women 
loved  him,  at  first  for  his  beauty,  afterward  for  the  sweet 
and  gentle  sympathy  radiating  from  him. 

"  I'm  glad,  indeed,  to  have  you  with  us,"  she  said,  as 
she  helped  him  to  the  plain,  substantial  dinner  of  her  own 
cooking.  "  Since  the  girls  went  away,  we've  been  rather 
lonesome,  George  and  I.  My  two  daughters,"  she  ex- 
plained, "  are  visiting  my  sister  in  Chicago ;  they  won't 
be  home  until  spring.  That  is  how  we  came  to  have  an 
extra  room  this  winter." 

That  night,  after  Jesse  went  to  bed,  Mrs.  Lane  and 
Lawrence  talked  him  over  in  the  little  sitting-room. 

"  How  strange  and  wonderful  he  is!  "  the  mother  said. 
"  Really,  he's  the  handsomest  human  being  I  ever  saw  in 
my  life.  And  you  say  he's  a  carpenter?  Well,  well!  He 
might  be  a  prince.  He  has  charming  manners,  too,  so  sim- 
ple, so  courteous.  We  hear  a  lot  about  gentlemen,  the 
kind  that  never  soil  their  hands;  but  this  young  man  is  my 
idea  of  a  gentleman.  Did  you  notice  how  respectfully  he 
listened  to  every  word  I  said?  Did  you  see  how  he  held 
the  door  open  for  me,  as  if  I  were  a  queen  ?  " 

"  I  wonder  where  he  got  such  ways,"  said  George. 

"  He  got  them  out  of  his  lovely  heart,  that's  where  he 
got  them."  And  Mrs.  Lane,  half -embarrassed  by  her  own 
enthusiasm,  kissed  her  son  good-night  and  went  off  to  bed. 
The  next  day  she  wrote  to  her  daughters  in  Chicago: 

"We  have  let  your  room  to  the  most  extraordinary  per- 
son, a  young  man  from  Vermont  whom  Lawrence  picked 
up  on  a  railway  train.  I  believe  he  is  a  prince  in  disguise ; 
but  he  calls  himself  a  carpenter;  and  his  hands,  though 
beautifully  shaped,  are  the  hands  of  a  man  who  has  done 
manual  labour.  If  you  girls  were  at  home,  you  wouldn't 


THE    SON   OF   MARY   BETHEL          129 

look  twice  at  any  of  your  young  men  friends,  after  seeing 
him.  I  am  really  glad  you  are  not  here;  for  I  wouldn't 
want  to  have  your  hearts  broken,  nor  see  you  tearing  each 
other's  hair. 

"  Strange,  isn't  it?  but  I  somehow  feel  that  what  I  have 
just^said  is  rather  cheap — being  about  him.  He  is  just  dif- 
ferent, that's  all;  but  you  won't  understand,  because  you 
have  never  seen  him.  He  almost  makes  me  believe  in  your 
Aunt  Jane's  pet  theory  of  Reincarnation.  I  wonder  what 
he  was — when  he  was  on  earth  before" 


CHAPTER   XX 

AT  breakfast  the  next  morning  Jesse  expressed  a  wish 
to  see  something  of  the  city  itself,  before  beginning*  his 
regular  reading  in  the  Library.  He  would  spend  two  or 
three  days  in  sightseeing,  then  settle  down  to  a  routine  of 
study,  varied  by  occasional  pleasure-trips. 

"  I  wish  I  could  go  about  with  you  to-day,"  said  Law- 
rence, who  left  the  house  for  business  at  half  past  eight 
every  morning  and  did  not  return  until  dinner-time,  at 
six  in  the  evening.  "  But  maybe  Mother  can  go." 

Jesse  looked  at  Mrs.  Lane  and  waited,  his  eyes  alight 
with  questions. 

"  Of  course  I'll  go,"  she  said,  flushing  with  pleasure. 
"  We'll  start  out  as  soon  as  I've  washed  the  breakfast 
dishes." 

They  took  the  Fifth  Avenue  stage  from  Washington 
Square  to  Central  Park,  for  Mrs.  Lane  wanted  Jesse  to 
see  the  fine  houses  along  the  handsomest  street  in  New 
York.  She  was  a  little  proud  to  be  in  the  company  of  this 
young  man  whom  everybody  followed  with  their  eyes. 

"  An  artist,"  they  heard  a  woman  whisper  to  her  com- 
panion, as  they  passed  along  the  street. 

The  Washington  Arch,  at  the  head  of  the  square,  roused 
Jesse's  enthusiasm;  it  was  the  first  really  beautiful  thing 
in  stone  that  he  had  ever  seen.  But  the  sky-questioning 
Flatiron  Building,  at  the  corner  of  Twenty-third  Street, 
made  him  shudder;  and  the  other  office  buildings  along  the 
Avenue,  the  many-windowed  hotels  and  the  houses  of  the 
millionaires,  seemed  very  large  to  his  unaccustomed  vision. 
There  was  something  in  these  miles  of  multiple  glassy-eyed 
stone  monsters  which  saddened  him.  His  thoughts  were 
for  the  people  who  dwelt  therein. 

"  When  they  have  climbed  to  the  top  of  their  tallest 
tower,"  he  said,  "  are  they  any  nearer  heaven  ?  " 

"  The  prophets  tell  us  that  heaven  is  in  the  heart,"  she 
ventured  timidly. 

"  It  is  also  in  the  eye,"  he  answered.  "  I  see  no  beauty 

130 


THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL          131 

of  earth,,  no  vision  of  heaven,  in  these  transplanted  marble- 
quarries." 

But  when  they  came  to  the  great  Cathedral  he  expressed 
a  wish  to  enter  it,  and  they  got  down  from  the  stage. 

"  This  is  nearer  to  beauty,"  he  said ;  "  this  has  at  least 
a  meaning.  If  one  does  not  find  God  here,  one  finds  the 
desire  for  God." 

"  What  strange  things  you  say,  Jesse !  I  may  call  you 
Jesse,  may  I  not?  " 

"  Of  course.  You  will  love  me  better  if  you  call  me 
Jesse." 

She  patted  the  strong  young  hand  he  gave  to  help  her 
up  the  steps.  "I  think  everyone  who  comes  near  you  will 
love  you  always,"  she  said. 

"  Love  me — or  hate  me.  Some  will  hate  me.  Where 
the  light  is  strongest,  there  are  the  shadows  deepest." 

A  wave  of  awe  swept  over  the  soul  of  the  young  man  as 
he  entered  the  vast,  lofty,  echoing,  empty  place.  It  was 
the  first  time  he  had  ever  been  in  a  great  church.  He  stood 
a  while  near  the  door,  looking  far  up  among  the  pointed 
arches,  letting  the  power  and  mystery  of  it  all  have  full 
sway  over  his  feelings.  His  eyes  filled  with  tears,  tears 
of  pity  and  love  for  the  souls  who  raised  this  fane  to  the 
glory  of  the  Unseen,  for  those  who  dreamed  and  wept  and 
prayed  under  these  yearning  arches. 

His  companion  touched  him  on  the  arm.  "  Here  is  a 
copy  of  the  Sistine  Madonna,"  she  said. 

"Why,  the  face  is  like  that  of  my  mother  when  I  was 
a  little  boy !  " 

They  sat  down  in  one  of  the  pews,  far  back,  and  for  a 
time  neither  spoke  a  word.  Then  Jesse  said,  in  the  low 
voice  one  instinctively  uses  under  Gothic  arches: 

"  I  have  discovered,  sitting  here,  where  the  great  cathe- 
dral builders  found  their  model :  in  the  aisles  of  the  primeval 
forest.  Others  must  have  seen  the  thing  I  see  and  spoken 
of  it — you  know  I  am  not  learned  in  architecture.  In  these 
innumerable  points  are  the  interlacing  arms  of  many  trees. 
The  mystery  that  hovers  there  above — vast,  dark,  over- 
powering with  suggestions  of  vague  dangers — is  the  menace 
of  the  unseen  dwellers  in  primeval  tree-tops,  the  menace  of 
the  shadow,  of  the  night,  beautiful  and  terrible  to  those 


I32          THE   SON   OF  MARY   BETHEL 

who  lived  at  the  mercy  of  the  unknown,  those  whose  home 
was  under  the  arches  of  the  forest.  Their  memories  are 
in  our  souls,  memories  of  the  infancy  of  the  Race;  their 
fears  are  hidden  in  the  folds  of  our  brains.  Their  dread 
of  the  beings  in  the  dark  waving  tree-tops  ten  thousand, 
a  hundred  thousand,  maybe  a  million  years  ago,  we  feel 
to-day  when  resting  under  this  many-pointed  roof.  Our 
reason  tells  us  that  these  points  are  of  motionless  cold 
stone;  but,  gazing  long,  we  seem  to  see  them  move,  they 
sway  to  and  fro,  and  we  hear  the  wind  whistling  through 
them.  Hark!  Why  do  you  start  at  that  sound?  It  is 
only  a  slamming  door  in  the  chapel  off  there ;  but  when  you 
heard  it,  your  heart  beat  fast,  your  enemy  of  a  million 
years  ago  was  upon  you." 

The  woman  was  gazing  at  Jesse  as  at  some  being  from 
another  sphere. 

"  Come  down  farther,"  he  said,  "  yes,  to  the  very  front 
pew." 

She  followed  him,  and  they  sat  down  again.  They  were 
now  within  thirty  feet  of  the  high  altar,  yet  how  far  away 
it  seemed!  The  six  great  unlit  candles,  each  one  as  tall  as 
a  man,  stood  like  sentinels  on  guard  before  the  saintly 
figures  in  the  reredos.  Again  they  were  silent  for  a  time, 
then  Jesse  whispered: 

"  Look  up — far  up :  Do  you  see  the  white  dove  hovering 
there?  It  is  of  stone,  and  yet  its  wings  seem  tremulous; 
they  are  vibrant  with  the  prayers  that  have  risen  to  it,  as 
to  the  visible  Holy  Spirit.  No  wonder  its  wings  seem 
to  be  quivering;  for  prayer,  if  ardent  enough,  can  make 
the  very  rocks  tremble.  Have  you  learned  that,  dear 
friend?" 

She  put  her  hand  under  his,  timidly,  as  if  for  protection 
from  something.  He  smiled  at  her,  as  one  smiles  at  a 
little  child  to  give  it  confidence.  Then  he  went  on: 

"  One  should  be  very  careful  what  one  prays  for,  when 
all  alone  in  a  place  like  this — because  the  prayer  might  be 
granted.  On  Sundays,  when  the  church  is  full  of  people 
with  conflicting  desires,  the  forces  are  scattered;  but  when 
all  alone  here,  one  has  at  one's  command  a  mighty  engine 
of  will,  the  cumulative  power  that  multitudes  of  souls  have 
left  behind  them.  It  is  the  variance  of  the  many  wills 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          133 

that  makes  them  impotent.  Why,  fill  this  church,  this 
arched  primeval  forest  of  unfeeling  stone, — fill  it  with  men 
and  women  moved  by  one  idea,  one  hope,  one  desire,  and 
such  a  command  would  go  up  to  the  Arch-Magus  of  the 
universe  as  would  lift  this  roof  and  send  it  flying  like  a 
handful  of  withered  leaves." 

"  Come  away,"  she  whispered,  "  O  Jesse,  come  away ! 
I  cannot  endure  it  any  longer!  " 

They  passed  out  into  the  bright  winter  sunshine,  out 
and  away  from  the  mysterious  place;  and  not  until  they 
had  walked  several  blocks  in  the  crisp  air  was  she  quite 
herself  again. 

At  the  Metropolitan  Art  Museum  they  had  luncheon, 
and  spent  the  afternoon  among  the  pictures  and  statuary. 
Jesse  enjoyed  most  the  Greek  casts  and  the  modern  land- 
scapes. He  sat  a  long  time  before  the  pedimental  figures 
of  the  Parthenon;  he  felt  the  kinship  between  himself  and 
these  harmonious  beings,  the  broken  ideals  of  a  younger  and 
purer  age.  Their  poise,  their  expression  of  controlled 
power,  spoke  to  all  that  was  strongest  in  his  nature. 

"  Had  I  chosen  to  work  in  matter  instead  of  in  spirit,  I 
would  have  made  such  things  as  these,"  he  said.  He  seemed 
unconscious  of  the  stupendous  claim  his  words  would  have 
implied  to  any  artist  who  might  have  heard  them.  And 
he  added,  after  a  moment :  "  But  I  have  chosen  the  more 
difficult  medium;  for  the  spirit  of  man,  responsive  to 
impression  as  it  may  seem,  is  really  far  less  yielding  than 
marble." 

The  next  day  they  went  to  several  places,  including 
Riverside  Drive,  the  Battery,  and  the  Stock  Exchange. 

From  the  visitors'  gallery  of  the  Exchange,  Jesse  looked 
down  upon  the  howling,  tossing  maelstrom,  whose  every 
wave  was  a  human  soul  borne  round  and  round  by  the 
irresistible  current  of  greed.  It  was  nearly  three  o'clock, 
the  last  few  minutes  of  an  excited  day,  and  the  roaring 
mass  below  him  seethed  more  wildly  with  every  passing 
second.  The  noise  was  deafening.  Even  in  the  gallery, 
conversation  in  ordinary  tones  was  impossible;  and  the  two 
visitors  stood  there  without  speech,  gazing  and  listening, 


134          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

as  the  minute-hand  of  the  great  clock  moved  slowly  toward 
the  hour. 

Suddenly  a  gong  sounded  above  the  din  of  human  voices; 
then  gradually  the  passionate  roar  of  the  great  multiple- 
mouthed  Demon  of  Trade  changed  to  the  fitful,  rattling 
murmur  of  individual  tongues  in  conversation.  The  rag- 
ing atoms  of  the  One — the  Demon — had  rebecome  the 
many. 

Though  Jesse's  time  in  the  Exchange  was  brief,  some 
fifteen  minutes  by  the  great  clock,  it  was  enough:  hours 
would  not  have  given  him  a  better  understanding  of  the 
spirit  of  it  all,  nor  deepened  the  impression  of  its  utter 
futility  in  the  ultimate  purposes  of  life.  Seated  in  the  ele- 
vated train  on  the  way  home,  he  said  to  his  companion: 

"  How  much  more  involved  is  their  religious  symbolism 
down  there  than  was  that  of  the  wiser  ancients !  " 

"  Religious  symbolism  ?  I  don't  understand  ? "  And 
Mrs.  Lane  looked  inquiringly  at  Jesse. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  with  a  whimsical  smile,  "  I  have  read 
of  wars  between  ancient  tribes  to  settle  the  question  whether 
the  symbol  of  their  god,  painted  on  their  foreheads,  should 
be  painted  up-and-down  or  cross-wise.  But  these  modern 
idolaters  war  with  one  another  for  the  changing  of  those 
figures  which  are  merely  the  symbol  of  a  symbol.  The  God 
of  Wealth,  called  by  many  names  since  first  the  mind  of 
man  conceived  the  idea  of  owning  things, — the  God  of 
Wealth  is  symbolised  for  them  by  the  mine,  the  company, 
the  railroad.  But  they  do  not  worship  the  mine,  the  com- 
pany, the  railroad ;  they  worship  the  symbol  of  these  symbols, 
an~d  they  seem  to  change  it  every  day,  every  moment.  At 
a  quarter  before  three,  99f  was  the  symbol  of  a  certain 
avatar  of  their  god;  at  three  o'clock  they  changed  the 
symbol  to  100,  and  to-morrow  morning  they  will  change 
it  again.  But  however  they  change  the  symbols,  the  god 
remains  the  same;  he  is  one  and  eternal,  but  he  has  more 
than  the  '  ninety-nine  beautiful  names  of  Allah.'  Yes,  I 
repeat,  their  religious  symbolism  is  involved.  I  suppose 
those  men  whom  I  saw — and  heard — in  the  temple  yonder 
may  be  called  the  priests  of  the  faith.  Their  devotion  is 
evidently  sincere,  though  their  rites  of  worship  are  dis- 
tressingly noisy." 


CHAPTER   XXI 

THAT  night,  when  Lawrence  came  home  to  dinner,  his 
mother  beckoned  him  into  the  kitchen  and  carefully  closed 
the  door.  She  stopped  to  pour  some  hot  water  from  the 
tea-kettle  into  a  dish  of  vegetables  boiling  on  the  fire,  then 
motioned  her  son  to  a  chair  on  one  side  of  the  deal  table, 
and  sat  down  herself  on  the  other  side. 

"Well!"  she  exclaimed.  "Have  you  any  idea  of  the 
sort  of  man  that  is  living  with  us  here?" 

"  Why,  don't  you  like    him  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Like  him  ?  I  should  say  I  do !  But  have  you  any 
idea  what  he  is?  Of  course  you  haven't;  how  could  you? 
But  I  want  to  tell  you  that  he  is  the  most  remarkable 
human  being  it  has  ever  been  my  lot  to  meet.  I  never  read 
in  any  book  such  things  as  he  says,  offhand,  as  if  they 
were  nothing  at  all — and  he  talking  to  a  stupid  old  woman 
like  me!  Take  my  word  for  it,  that  young  man  is  going 
to  do  something  which  will  make  the  world  open  its  eyes. 
I  don't  know  what,  and  I  don't  know  how  nor  when; 
but  you  will  have  reason  some  day  to  remember  my  words." 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  him,"  said  Lawrence,  his  imagina- 
tion kindling  at  her  words,  for  the  spark  which  had  lighted 
his  early  youth  had  not  been  altogether  smothered  by  his 
seven  years'  grind  in  a  business  office;  and  there  was  some- 
thing in  the  personality  of  this  chance-met  stranger  that 
tugged  at  his  thoughts  all  day  long. 

A  few  minutes  later,  when  the  three  were  seated  at  the 
table  in  the  dining-room,  Lawrence  said: 

"  I  have  a  little  surprise  for  you — two  theatre  tickets," 
and  he  displayed  the  small  pieces  of  cardboard.  "  The 
boss  gave  them  to  me,  so  they  must  be  good  seats.  His 
wife  is  sick,  and  they  couldn't  use  them.  You  and  Jesse 
can  have  these,  Mother,  and  I'll  get  another  seat  in  the 
balcony,  and  meet  you  at  the  door  when  the  play  is  over." 

But  Mrs.  Lane  had  promised  to  spend  the  evening  with 

135 


136          THE   SON   OF  MARY   BETHEL 

a  friend  who  had  a  new-born  baby,  so  she  told  the  two 
young  men  to  go  to  the  theatre. 

The  seats  proved  to  be  good  ones,  in  the  fifth  row  of 
the  orchestra,  and  the  play  was  a  classic  which  Jesse  had 
always  desired  to  see.  In  the  middle  of  the  first  act  he 
missed  some  of  the  lines  through  the  rustling  of  a  party  of 
young  people  that  came  in  late  and  settled  themselves  in 
one  of  the  boxes  on  the  right,  only  a  few  feet  away  from 
him;  but  after  the  momentary  disturbance,  he  thought  no 
more  about  them. 

When  the  act  was  over  and  the  lights  went  up,  Jesse 
looked  around  him.  It  was  a  brilliant  audience,  the  first- 
night  audience  of  a  famous  English  star,  and  the  house 
was  full  of  men  and  women  in  evening  dress;  but  though 
Jesse  was  all  unconscious  of  it,  his  vivid,  singular  appear- 
ance attracted  much  attention.  People  all  over  the  house 
were  whispering  together  about  him.  Who  was  he?  Some 
celebrity,  no  doubt,  and  what  a  wonderful  head ! 

The  roving  eyes  of  Lawrence  Lane  discovered  the  inter- 
est that  centred  about  Jesse,  and  a  thrill  of  pride  lifted 
the  narrow  chest  of  the  clerk. 

"  I've  been  trying  to  feel  sorry  for  the  sickness  of  my 
employer's  wife  which  was  the  cause  of  our  having  these 
seats,"  he  said ;  "  but  I  really  can't,  you  know.  I  wonder 
how  he  came  to  offer  them  to  me  instead  of  to  one  of  his 
friends;  he  never  did  such  a  thing  before." 

Jesse  smiled.  "Who  can  say? — an  impulse,  a  wander- 
ing thought,  maybe.  Only  this  morning  I  was  wishing  that 
I  might  see  a  really  great  drama." 

"  I  like  the  audience  quite  as  well  as  the  stage,"  said 
Lawrence.  "  Look,  Jesse,  what  a  handsome  woman  that  is 
in  the  box  at  the  right,  the  one  in  the  pale  y  el  low_  dress." 

Jesse  looked.  He  caught  his  breath — for  it  was  Mary 
Magnus.  She  sat  within  ten  feet  of  him,  beautiful  and 
proud,  as  if  no  shadow  of  pain  had  ever  touched  her. 
Around  her  form  fell  the  soft  folds  of  a  classic  gown; 
her  arms  and  shoulders  were  bare  and  unmarred  by  any 
jewel,  but  round  her  black  hair  was  a  Greek  fillet  of 
diamonds. 

It  was  nearly  five  years  since  that  evening  in  her  father's 
garden,  when  she  had  opened  her  strange  heart  to  him  and 


THE   SON   OF   MARY   BETHEL          137 

wept  her  terrible  tears.  It  was  four  years  that  month 
since  he  had  received  her  letter  from  California,  with  its 
wild  and  naked  revelations.  Time  had  deepened  her  dark 
beauty,  had  given  a  surer  poise  to  the  head,  a  steadier  look 
to  the  eyes.  Gazing  at  her,  there  gradually  grew  in  him 
a  consciousness  of  some  unusual  power  in  this  woman. 
What  was  it?  .  .  .  Something  more  subtle  than  her 
beauty,  more  potent  than  her  charm.  .  .  .  Suddenly 
it  flashed  upon  him;  it  startled  him,  for  the  idea  was  one 
which  he  could  not  have  shared  with  the  mental  and  ethical 
children  surrounding  him.  He  was  a  fearless  thinker,  a 
man  so  pure  in  heart  that  he  could  look  upon  impurity 
without  shuddeiing.  The  power  he  realised  in  Mary 
Magnus  was  her  fearlessness,  her  consistency,  in  daring  to 
put  in  practice  her  own  convictions.  Could  it  be  that  a 
great  sinner  and  a  great  saint  wrere  made  of  the  same  mate- 
rial? The  idea  was  new  to  him;  but  he  followed  it  to  the 
end,  as  he  was  wont  to  follow  every  new  idea.  He  told 
himself  that  fearlessness,  that  rarest  quality  of  the  soul,  was 
a  basic  quality  in  the  character  of  those  who  could  touch 
either  extreme  of  the  long  ethical  ladder.  What  might  she 
not  become,  this  woman  who  dared  to  be  herself,  if  once 
that  self  were  firmly  rooted  in  the  Spirit!  The  idea  made 
him  catch  his  breath.  It  should  be — it  must  be.  It  was 
in  accordance  with  the  Law  of  Life;  for  power  is  power, 
and  needs  but  to  be  wisely  directed. 

At  that  moment  the  orchestra  began  to  play.  After 
the  first  few  bars  the  music  seemed  familiar  to  Jesse;  some- 
where he  had  heard  it  before.  Then  he  remembered :  this 
was  the  music  she  had  played  for  him  that  night  in  Ver- 
gennes  when  the  possibilities  of  tone  were  first  revealed 
to  him. 

Before  this,  the  woman  in  the  box  had  sat  silent  and 
impassive,  paying  but  slight  attention  to  the  chattering 
group  surrounding  her;  but  she  now  leaned  slightly  for- 
ward in  her  chair,  looking  out  at  the  sea  of  faces  in  the 
body  of  the  house  with  searching,  restless  eyes.  Then  she 
saw  Jesse.  All  the  bright  colour  went  suddenly  out  of  her 
face;  her  eyelids  fluttered,  and  she  put  out  her  hands  as  if 
groping  in  darkness.  After  a  moment  she  rose  unsteadily, 
and  turned  toward  the  back  of  the  box. 


138          THE   SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

Jesse  saw  a  tall  man  putting  a  cloak  around  her  shoul- 
ders; he  saw  the  questioning  looks  in  the  faces  of  the  other 
women  as  they  turned  to  her.  Mary  leaned  toward  them 
and  said  something;  then,  followed  by  the  tall  man,  she 
passed  quickly  from  the  box,  down  the  side-aisle  and  out 
of  the  house,  without  looking  back. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  next  morning  Jesse  began  his  work  in  the  great 
Library.  He  explained  to  the  Librarian  that  he  wanted  to 
study  the  history  of  the  world's  chief  religions;  that  he 
would  be  in  New  York  only  three  months,  but  could  read 
the  greater  part  of  every  day. 

"  The  time  is  short,"  said  the  Librarian ;  "  but  I  will 
help  you  all  I  can.  You  have  read  much  already,  I  sup- 
pose ?  Where  do  you  want  to  begin  ?  " 

"  I  have  read  only  a  little,  and  I  will  begin  with  Egypt." 

He  was  directed  to  the  reading-room,  where  he  saw  a 
crowd  of  men,  young  and  old,  well-dressed  and  shabby, 
poring  over  piles  of  books.  Books,  books,  books!  The 
heart  of  Jesse  beat  hard.  Here  was  the  opportunity  he  had 
so  long  needed,  the  privilege  to  examine  the  records  of  the 
world's  life.  He  thought  of  the  library  of  Herman  Mag- 
nus, in  Vergennes,  which  had  once  seemed  to  him  so  im- 
portant. What  were  those  few  thousands  of  volumes  com- 
pared with  the  million  in  this  great  dusky  place?  He  would 
begin  with  Egypt,  the  land  of  the  thrice  great  one — Hermes 
Trismegistus ;  then  he  would  pass  to  India,  the  cradle  of 
religions  and  philosophies;  then  to  China,  land  of  Lao-tsze, 
father  and  master  of  the  paradox;  then  down  through  the 
centuries.  Only  three  months!  It  seemed  like  a  day  in  the 
building  of  the  pyramids.  But  he  knew  exactly  what  he 
sought,  and  that  knowledge  would  shorten  the  labour. 
There  was  no  time  for  ornamental  detail;  no  embroidery 
of  theory  upon  the  fabric  of  the  fact  was  necessary  here, — 
only  the  knowledge  of  how  the  spiritual  idea  had  taken 
concrete  form  in  the  history  of  the  world.  He  had  no 
need  to  ask  w-hat  the  masters  had  taught,  but  only  how 
they  had  taught.  The  spiritual  idea  was  already  his  own; 
a  lifetime  of  reading  Would  not  change  nor  improve  it; 
but  as  he  had  studied  what  his  father  and  other  carpen- 
ters knew  of  the  science  and  art  of  building,  so  he  would 

139 


i4o          THE   SON   OF  MARY   BETHEL 

now  study  what  history  knew  of  the  science  and  art  of 
teaching  the  knowledge  of  God.  At  this  period  of  his 
life  he  was  very  reticent  concerning  his  plans  and  pur- 
poses; and  there  was  one  idea,  one  realisation — the  greatest 
of  all — of  which  he  never  spoke  to  anyone. 

Jesse's  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  the  return  of  the 
Librarian,  directing  an  attendant  laden  with  many  books. 

"'This  will  do  for  a  beginning,"  he  said.  "  Do  you 
read  the  European  languages?" 

"  No." 

"  That  is  unfortunate ;  out  there  is  much  in  English. 
One  of  the  best  books  on  the  subject  is  not  here;  I  have 
it  in  my  own  private  library  at  home.  .  .  .  Yes,  I  will 
bring  it  down  for  you  to-morrow." 

Jesse's  smile  of  thanks  lighted  the  room,  and  the  Li- 
brarian warmed  to  him  at  once.  This  man  was  a  scholar 
of  unusual  attainments,  quick  to  observe  and  to  smile  at 
ignorant  presumption,  but  the  most  helpful  man  in  New 
York  to  any  serious  student. 

"  I  have  some  other  rare  books  which  are  not  in  the  Li- 
brary," he  added.  "  Perhaps — but  you  had  better  go 
through  these  first."  Then  he  went  away  and  left  the 
young  man  to  his  reading. 

That  afternoon,  in  passing  through  the  entrance  hall, 
Jesse  again  met  the  Librarian.  A  lot  of  heavy  cases  were 
being  carried  into  the  building — more  books,  to  be  added 
to  the  million  already  there. 

"  I  have  been  thinking,"  said  Jesse,  "  what  a  perfect 
illustration  this  place  is  of  the  interdependence  of  spirit 
and  matter.  The  souls  of  two  or  three  hundred  thousand 
men,  their  lives,  their  wrestlings  with  the  unseen,  the 
very  beatings  of  their  hearts,  their  messages  to  us  who 
come  after, — all  and  each  of  them  dependent  on  a  few 
sheets  of  flimsy  paper,  that  a  spark  from  a  lighted  match 
in  the  hand  of  a  child  could  reduce  to  nothing  in  a  few 
minutes.  And  yet  I  have  read  the  words  of  men  who 
prate  of  matter's  being  an  illusion;  have  read  their  prepos- 
terous statements  printed  on  paper,  a  form  of  matter;  read 
them  with  the  aid  of  my  two  eyes,  another  form  of  mat- 
ter. Verily,  a  most  convincing  illusion,  this  mysterious 
matter,  which  they  deny.  According  to  them,  if  a  man's 


THE   SON   OF   MARY   BETHEL          141 

head  is  real,  his  feet  must  be  an  illusion.  Outside  the  end- 
less universe  they  place  their  changeless  God,  and  out  of 
endless  change  they  make — nothingness,  an  illusion. 

"  I  am  a  carpenter,"  Jesse  went  on,  "  and  the  spirituality 
of  such  men  seems  to  me  about  as  useful  as  a  ridge-pole 
without  a  roof." 

The  Librarian  went  on  to  his  desk,  stopping  to  say  to 
one  of  his  assistants :  "  There's  a  young  carpenter  in  the 
reading-room  who  talks  like  a  philosopher,  and  looks  like 
— well,  I  won't  say  what,  but  just  go  in  and  look  at  him. 
He's  sitting  under  the  clock." 

The  next  morning,  in  glancing  over  the  newspaper,  Jesse 
saw  in  a  list  of  departing  travellers  for  Europe  the  name 
of  Mary  Magnus.  He  wondered  if  she  had  gone  away 
to  avoid  the  possibility  of  meeting  him  again.  Did  she 
regret  the  confidence  she  had  given  him  in  her  strange  let- 
ter four  years  before?  Or  did  she  regret  the  acts  which 
were  the  basis  of  that  confidence?  If  she  was  afraid  to 
meet  his  eyes,  how  little  she  must  realise  the  gentleness 
of  his  judgment;  how  little  she  must  realise  the  unalter- 
able nature  of  his  friendship.  He  was  sorry  to  learn  that 
she  had  gone  away ;  but  he  said  to  himself,  "  Mary  will 
come  to  me  some  day  of  her  own  accord,  whatever  her  mo- 
tive, whatever  her  feeling.  The  fearless  soul  which  could 
send  me  s-uch  a  letter  will  serve  of  its  own  choice  the  fear- 
less faith  I  have  to  give  the  world." 

A  few  evenings  later  a  strange  thing  happened.  Jesse 
was  passing  through  Washington  Square  about  nine 
o'clock,  when  a  young  woman  spoke  to  him.  A  loaded 
wagon  was  passing  by  at  the  moment,  and  he  did  not 
catch  her  words. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  courteously. 

She  repeated  her  remark. 

"  I  do  not  understand " 

As  he  stood  under  the  electric  street-lamp  he  removed 
his  hat,  and  the  white  light,  falling  straight  down,  was  like 
a  nimbus  of  glory  around  his  ineffably  beautiful  head. 
The  girl's  eyes  widened  and  stared;  her  face  turned  so 
pale  that  the  dashes  of  rouge  on  her  cheeks  were  like  two 
blood  spots;  then  suddenly  she  gave  a  wild  scream,  and, 
turning,  fled  away  into  the  night. 


I42          THE   SON   OF  MARY   BETHEL 

Her  life  was  changed  from  that  hour.  "  I  have  had  a 
vision,"  was  the  only  explanation  she  would  give  to  her 
mocking  and  incredulous  companions,  and  their  ribald 
laughter  had  no  effect  on  her.  The  next  day  she  went 
to  work  as  a  waitress  in  a  cheap  restaurant;  and  whenever 
in  future  she  was  not  able  to  earn  her  bread,  she  went  with- 
out it.  But  all  this  Jesse  never  knew. 

One  afternoon  in  the  early  part  of  February  Mrs.  Lane 
went  to  spend  the  night  with  a  friend  in  Brooklyn,  leaving 
her  son  and  Jesse  alone  together.  They  ate  the  dinner,  cold 
but  plentiful,  which  the  mother  had  left  on  the  table  for 
them ;  then  Jesse  proposed  a  walk  in  the  fresh  night  air.  He 
had  noticed  that  Lawrence  was  pale  that  -evening,  and 
thought  that  a  brisk  half-hour  of  exercise  would  bring  the 
healthy  colour  back  to  his  face. 

"  I've  been  working  harder  than  usual,"  Lawrence  said, 
as  they  walked  up  the  avenue.  "  My  head  is  heavy,  and 
there's  a  buzzing  in  my  ears.  Sister  Martha  says  that  I 
stay  in  the  house  too  much;  but  then,  Martha's  always 
troubling  herself  about  something  or  other.  She's  so  dif- 
ferent from  Mary,  who  seems  to  care  for  nothing  but 
reading  and  dreaming.  I  think  you'd  like  Mary.  Yes, 
and  you'd  like  Martha,  too.  They're  both  good  girls; 
but  Mary  suits  me  better,  because  she  lets  me  alone,  and 
Martha  doesn't." 

When  they  reached  home  Lawrence  flung  himself  down 
on  the  lounge  in  the  sitting-room,  and  Jesse  sat  in  a  chair 
beside  him.  A  real  friendship  had  sprung  up  between  these 
two  young  men,  so  different  in  every  way.  The  volatile 
nature  of  Lawrence, — one  day  nervous  to  the  point  of  ir- 
ritability, the  next  day  listless  to  the  point  of  inertia, — 
found  in  the  sweet,  poised  nature  of  Jesse  a  strength 
whereon  it  joyed  to  Jean.  He  had  always  been  rather  soli- 
tary in  his  ways,  having  few  companions  and  no  intimates, 
seeming  to  prefer  his  own  lonely  and  aimless  musings  to 
the  vulgar  or  insipid  pleasures  dear  to  his  fellow  clerks. 
Mrs.  Lane  had  said  one  day  to  Jesse  that  he  was  the  only 
intimate  friend  her  son  had  ever  made. 

Lying  on  the  lounge  that  evening,  idly  smoking  his 
cigarette,  Lawrence  confided  to  Jesse  his  plans  for  the 


THE   SON   OF   MARY   BETHEL          143 

future.  He  was  not  satisfied  with  the  limited  spaces  of  a 
small  city  flat,  with  one-quarter  of  his  salary  going  out 
each  month  for  rent;  he  longed  for  the  greater  freedom  of 
the  semi-country,  where  he  could  have  a  little  house  and 
garden  of  his  own.  Every  year  he  was  laying  aside  a  small 
amount  of  money,  and  when  he  should  have  enough  to  buy 
a  plot  of  ground  and  build  a  house,  the  venture  was  to  be 
made. 

"I've  already  chosen  the  neighbourhood,"  he  said,  with 
more  enthusiasm  than  Jesse  had  ever  seen  him  show  before. 
"  You  have  never  been  across  the  Fort  Lee  Ferry  and 
along  the  top  of  the  Palisades;  but  that  is  the  place  I  mean 
to  live  in,  some  day.  It's  near  enough  to  the  city  for  me 
to  reach  the  office  in  a  reasonable  time;  it's  far  away 
enough  to  be  beyond  the  noise,  the  dust,  and  the  tiresome 
brick  and  granite,  and  to  have  green  trees  and  grass- 
long  grass  that  a  fellow  can  tangle  his  feet  in." 

Jesse  smiled  in  loving  sympathy.  "  I  hope  you  may 
have  the  home  you  desire,"  he  said,  "  and  have  it  soon. 
One  green  tree  with  a  bird's  nest  in  it  is  more  of  a  home 
than  a  palace  full  of  princes." 

Then  Jesse  rose  and  went  into  the  bedroom  to  get  a  book 
of  nature  poems;  there  was  a  lyric  in  it  which  he  wished 
to  read  to  Lawrence. 

Returning  to  the  sitting-room,  he  was  startled  to  see  his 
friend  lying  apparently  unconscious,  with  half-open  glassy 
eyes  and  ash-coloured  face.  Save  for  a  drawn,  anxious  ex- 
pression, his  countenance  was  that  of  the  dead.  Jesse  took 
his  hand ;  it  lay  cold  and  flaccid  in  his  grasp.  Could  this 
be  death?  What  sudden  change  had  passed  over  this  man, 
a  moment  ago  in  perfect  health,  that  he  should  wear  the 
mask  of  the  grave?  Bewildered  by  the  unexpected  visita- 
tion, Jesse  stood  over  him.  But  something,  a  subtle  per- 
ception he  could  not  have  analysed,  made  him  feel  that 
this  semblance  of  death  was  only  a  semblance,  and  gave 
him  the  will  to  end  the  ghastly  stillness. 

Firmly  he  placed  his  hand  upon  the  head  of  the  uncon- 
scious man. 

"  Lawrence,"  he  said,  in  a  commanding  voice,  "  Law- 
rence." 

The  body  stirred,  tne  eyes  opened  wider,  the  lips  con- 


144          THE   SON    OF  MARY   BETHEL 

tracted,  and  the  light  of  consciousness  came  suddenly  back 
to  the  grey  face. 

"Why  .  .  .  why  .  .  .  what  is  the  matter?" 
Lawrence  stammered.  "  Did  you  speak  to  me  ?  " 

Jesse  drew  up  a  chair  and  sat  down  beside  him,  taking 
one  of  the  listless  hands  between  his  own  and  rubbing  it. 

"  You  are  all  right  again  now,"  he  said,  convincingly. 
"  No,  do  not  close  your  eyes;  keep  them  open,  and  look 
at  me." 

"  It  seems  so  strange,"  the  other  murmured,  half-ab- 
sently.  "  I  thought  .  .  .  why  are  you  rubbing  my 
hands?" 

"  You  may  sit  up  now,"  said  Jesse,  and  Lawrence  sat  up. 

"  I  am  going  to  get  you  a  glass  of  water.  Do  not  lie 
down — no,  I  forbid  you." 

Lawrence  drank  the  water,  then  Jesse  made  him  rise  and 
walk  about  the  room.  After  a  few  minutes  of  this  ex- 
ercise he  let  him  sit  down  again. 

"  Now,  Lawrence,"  Jesse  said,  "  tell  me  what  hap- 
pened after  I  left  the  room  the  first  time." 

"Why     .     .     .     what   were   we   talking   about?" 

"  The  home  on  the  Palisades  which  you  hope  to  have 
some  day." 

"Oh,  yes!  And  you  said  something  about  a  green  tree 
with  a  bird's  nest  in  it.  I  must  have  been  thinking  of  the 
bird's  nest,  and  then  ...  I  wasn't  thinking  of  any- 
thing." 

"  Yes,  I  understand,  "  replied  Jesse ;  then,  perceiving 
that  his  friend  was  now  in  a  normal  state,  he  told  him  the 
whole  story. 

"That's  very  strange,"  the  young  man  muttered,  "very 
strange.  I'm  sure  I  never  had  an  attack  like  that  before. 
And — -Oh,  Jesse! — I'm  so  glad  Mother  wasn't  here!  Now 
promise  me  that  you  won't  tell  Mother,  nor  anybody  else." 

And  Jesse  promised.  But  from  that  night  he  kept  his 
friend  in  the  open  air  during  the  greater  part  of  his  leisure 
time;  and  often,  on  Sundays,  took  him  away  from  the 
city,  down  by  the  winter  sea.  Though  neither  of  them 
ever  referred  to  the  strange  cataleptic  seizure,  Lawrence 
understood  that  Jesse  was  acting  the  part  of  a  wise  phy- 
sician, and  yielded  to  him  accordingly. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

DURIXG  the  remainder  of  Jesse's  stay  in  New  York,  his 
days  were  mostly  spent  in  the  Library.  He  read  not  only 
the  history  of  religions,  but  the  history  of  nations,  and  their 
poetry.  The  ease  and  quickness  with  which  he  mastered 
the  contents  of  any  book  were  a  source  of  wonder  to  his 
friend  the  Librarian.  Given  a  capacious  memory  and  an 
ardent,  selective  interest  in  the  story  of  the  world,  one  may 
learn  much  in  even  so  short  a  time  as  three  months,  espe- 
cially when  one  has  constantly  beside  one  a  man  who  knows 
practically  everything,  and  such,  a  man  was  that  Librarian. 
But  never  a  word  did  Jesse  speak  to  him  of  the  great 
plan  which  dominated  all  his  studies;  no  proof  of  his  nat- 
ural healing  power  did  he  vouchsafe  to  anyone  in  New 
York,  except  Lawrence  Lane.  With  unerring  instinct  for 
the  inevitable  sequence  of  events,  he  knew  that  the  time 
for  these  things  was  not  yet  come.  This  was  his  receptive 
period,  the  period  of  gestation  for  his  destined  work;  the 
birth-time  would  be  several  years  away.  Not  yet  were 
his  powers  developed  to  the  full.  Many  times  still  must 
the  circling  seasons,  passing  round  the  globe,  mellow  his 
soul  with  toil  and  silence  and  meditation.  At  that  early 
stage  of  his  progress,  had  he  hinted  to  anyone  of  the  dizzy 
mountain  peak  that  was  the  goal  of  his  daring,  whose 
faith  would  have  been  strong  enough  to  speed  him  on  the 
way?  Who  would  not  have  retarded  him  by  the  drag  of 
pardonable  doubt  ?  "  To  know,  to  dare,  to  act,  and  to 
be  silent  " :  this  was  the  discipline  which  should  perfect  his 
destiny. 

And  not  only  did  he  study  books;  he  studied  men  also, 
going  alone  into  the  poorest  and  most  dangerous  quarters 
of  the  city,  inviting  the  confidence  of  those  whom  misery 
and  injustice  had  robbed  of  confidence  in  all,  even  God. 
To  the  knowledge  of  beauty  and  joy  he  added  the  knowl- 
edge of  wretchedness,  without  which  no  man  may  aspire 
to  master-wisdom. 

145 


146          THE   SON   OF  MARY   BETHEL 

True  to  his  promise,  Jesse  sent  for  his  mother  to  meet 
him  in  New  York  for  the  last  week  of  his  sojourn. 

Mary  Bethel,  following  the  minute  directions  given  in 
his  letter,  passed  with  trembling  heart  along  the  crowded 
platform  of  the  station,  through  the  gates,  and  into  the 
outstretched  arms  of  her  waiting  son.  The  three  long 
months  of  his  absence  had  been  shortened  for  her  by  visions 
of  this  hour;  for  now  was  to  come  the  realisation  of  her 
years  of  longing  to  behold  the  wonders  of  the  great  outer 
world. 

"  You'll  give  your  mother  every  hour  of  these  seven 
days,  won't  you,  my  son?"  she  pleaded,  as  they  passed 
along  the  noisy  street  toward  the  train  which  was  to  take 
them  to  Mrs.  Lane's. 

"Yes,  Mother,  every  hour." 

"  And  shall  I  see  all  the  great  things  you  have  written 
me  about,  and  all  the  things  in  the  New  .York  book  you 
sent  me  ?  " 

"  All  these  and  more,  dear  heart." 

"  I  wish  your  father  could  have  lived  to  see  you  a  grown 
man,  taking  your  mother  on  journeys  to  the  city,  and  mak- 
ing friends  for  her  among  strange  people.  How  proud  he 
would  be!  Is  this  Mrs.  Lane  a  haughty  woman?  Will 
she  think  me  countrified  and  awkward  ?  " 

Jesse  smiled  down  at  her. 

"  Why,  Mother,  she  is  as  simple  and  unassuming  as  you 
are,  and  not  nearly  so  good-looking.  There,  you're  smiling 
now,  and  I  like  to  see  it;  your  smile  is  like  sunlight  on  a 
bed  of  pansies." 

"  You  say  such  lovely  things,  Jesse !  I'm  always  won- 
dering how  a  simple  woman  like  me  could  ever  have  been 
the  mother  of  a  man  like  you." 

"Why,  it's  because  you  are  simple  and  like  a  child  that 
you  could  be  my  mother.  An  artificial  and  worldly  woman 
would  never  have  a  son  like  me." 

"  I  fear  I  don't  know  much  about  the  world." 

"  So  much  the  better,  Mother." 

As  they  climbed  the  stairs  of  the  elevated  railway  Mary 
Bethel  clung  to  Jesse's  arm.  It  was  six  o'clock  in  the 
evening,  and  the  stairs  and  platforms  were  crowded  with 
people. 


THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL          147 

"  Here  everybody  seems  to  wear  their  best  clothes  all 
the  time,"  she  whispered  to  him,  as  they  stood  waiting  for 
the  down-train. 

"  You  look  very  nice  yourself,  Mother.  That  must  be 
a  new  dress,  for  I  don't  remember  having  seen  it  before, 
and  your  hat  is  becoming;  those  blue  flowers  make  you 
look  young.  I  showed  Mrs.  Lane  your  picture  the  other 
day,  and  she  said  your  face  was  like  the  face  in  a  famous 
painting.  She  is  pleased  that  you  are  coming  to  visit  her." 

So  with  sweet  and  graceful  words  Jesse  put  his  mother 
entirely  at  her  ease.  With  his  sure  intuition  of  the  human 
heart,  he  had  observed  that  when  men  and  women  are 
shyly  pleased  with  themselves,  others  are  almost  certain 
to  be  pleased  with  them,  and  they  to  be  pleased  with 
others.  By  the  time  they  reached  the  little  house  near 
Washington  Square,  Mary  Bethel  felt  that  she  was  going 
to  an  old  friend  whom  she  had  known  for  a  lifetime.  And 
Mrs.  Lane's  enthusiastic  welcome  confirmed  the  impression. 
Jesse's  friend  received  his  mother  with  a  sisterly  kiss  on  the 
cheek,  and  gave  her  own  room  to  her,  taking  the  smaller 
one  usually  occupied  by  Lawrence,  who  was  to  sleep  for 
a  week  on  the  couch  in  the  sitting-room. 

Jesse  was  even  more  lovable  than  usual  that  evening, 
his  smile,  his  wit,  his  affectionate  glance,  playing  from 
one  to  another  of  his  charmed  companions.  The  two  mid- 
dle-aged women  and  the  young  man  hung  upon  his  words, 
and  seemed  in  spirit  to  be  hanging  about  his  neck.  Mary 
Bethel  realised  the  change,  the  growth  in  power  and  dig- 
nity, which  had  expanded  the  personality  of  her  son  in 
these  three  months  of  their  separation.  The  growth  had 
been  continual  for  years;  but  being  with  him  every  day, 
she  had  not  realised  it.  Now  when  she  saw  it,  she  was 
pleased,  a  little  awed,  and  tremulously  happy. 

"  There  will  be  two  lonely  people  in  this  house  when 
your  son  leaves  us,"  Mrs.  Lane  said  to  Mary  Bethel,  as 
the  four  sat  around  the  dinner-table.  "  He  has  been  to 
us  like  a  visitor  from  another  planet." 

Mary  smiled.  "  That  is  what  I  used  to  tell  my  husband 
about  him  when  he  was  a  baby." 

Jesse  sat  between  the  two  women,  and  he  laid  an  arm 
tenderly  about  the  shoulders  of  each. 


i48          THE   SON   OF  MARY   BETHEL 

"  I  am  happy  that  you  two  love  each  other,  because  you 
both  love  me,"  he  said.  "  Love  is  a  limitless  ocean ;  the 
heart-cups  of  all  humanity  may  be  filled  to  overflowing 
with  its  waters,  without  lowering  its  tides  by  so  much  as 
a  hair's  breadth;  the  more  you  take  from  it,  the  more  re- 
turns to  it  again.  Is  that  not  so,  Lawrence  ?  " 

"  According  to  mathematics,"  Lawrence  began ;  but  his 
mother  shook  her  finger  at  him. 

"  Jesse  knows  the  higher  mathematics  of  the  soul,  which 
makes  your  accurate  figuring  seem  only  half  true,  after 
all." 

Lawrence  smiled  across  the  table  at  Jesse.  He  could 
no  more  have  been  jealous  of  his  mother's  love  for  this 
great  friend  than  he  could  have  begrudged  her  praises  of 
the  morning  sun  that  lighted  her  chamber.  Even  at  the 
early  age  of  twenty-three,  Jesse  inspired  an  unquestioning 
devotion  in  those  whom  he  gathered  to  his  heart.  Jealous 
among  themselves  they  might  be  of  the  love  which  he  gave 
to  each  and  all  of  them;  but  jealous  of  the  love  which  he 
inspired — never.  A  slight  superiority  in  a  fellow  being 
may  arouse  resentment;  a  great  superiority  may  be  accepted 
like  a  fact  in  nature,  a  mountain,  a  cataract,  or  a  star. 

"  I  will  go  even  farther  in  the  higher  mathematics  of 
love,"  said  Jesse,  smiling  back  at  Lawrence:  "The  more 
love  we  give  away,  the  more  we  have  to  keep;  the  more 
we  scatter  our  love  among  a  myriad  dear  ones,  the  more 
concentrated  is  our  love." 

"  If  Jesse  should  tell  my  mother  that  the  sun  moved 
round  the  earth,"  laughed  Lawrence,  "  she  would  dispute 
all  the  astronomers  on  the  strength  of  his  bare  assertion." 

"  And  the  statement  would  be  relatively  true,"  Jesse 
insisted.  "  A  relative  truth  depends  upon  the  angle  from 
which  we  view  a  fact.  From  the  standpoint  of  the  earth, 
the  sun  moves;  from  the  standpoint  of  the  solar  system,  it 
does  not.  I  had  not  gone  far  in  my  observations  of  the 
universe  before  I  discovered  that  everything  has  two  sides; 
that  a  fact  may  be  true  to  itself  and  seemingly  false  in  re- 
lation to  something  else;  that  a  thing,  in  effect,  is  both 
what  it  is  to  itself  and  what  it  appears  to  be  to  others — 
to  each  and  all  of  the  others.  For  instance:  To  you  who 
love  me,  I  am  one  who  speaks  with  the  authority  of  knowl- 


THE    SON   OF   MARY   BETHEL          149 

edge;  to  my  friend  the  learned  Librarian,  I  am  a  young 
workingman  from  the  country,  with  the  habit  of  silence 
and  a  taste  for  books.  Now  each  of  these  minor  truths  is 
a  part  of  the  great  truth  of  Jesse  Bethel." 

"And  what  is  that  great  truth  about  you?"  urged  his 
mother.  "  Tell  us,  Jesse." 

His  eyes  deepened  until  they  seemed  like  wells  of  fathom- 
less blue  water  reflecting  the  fire  of  an  invisible  sun. 

"  Is  it  not  enough  that  you  love  me  and  that  I  love 
you  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Trust  me  a  little  longer  to  keep  in 
silence  the  whole  truth  about  myself." 

They  gazed  at  him  in  bewilderment.  Never  before  had 
he  spoken  directly  to  anyone  of  a  guarded  secret  that  he 
might  not  share.  With  the  intuition  of  love  they  recog- 
nised that  the  seed  of  some  stupendous  thing  was  ger- 
minating in  their  presence.  They  were  all  suddenly  silent; 
an  uneasy  seriousness,  like  a  premonition,  made  them  turn 
and  furtively  question  each  other  with  their  eyes.  For  a 
moment  Jesse  seemed  lost  in  thought;  then,  glancing  up, 
and  seeing  the  look  on  their  faces,  he  was  overpowered  by 
the  isolation  of  one  who  inspires  a  respect  that  merges  into 
awe.  He  shuddered  slightly.  Oh!  not  yet  had  he  to  bear 
the  burden  of  his  unique  destiny — not  yet! 

He  clapped  his  hands  together,  as  if  to  break  the  spell 
that  lay  upon  him;  he  laughed  lightly,  and  rising  from  the 
table  began  to  gather  the  dishes  near  him  into  a  neat  pile. 

"  Let  us  be  children  together  for  this  evening,"  he  said, 
"  and  we  will  begin  by  helping  Mrs.  Lane  to  clear  away 
the  dinner  things.  Lawrence,  you  and  I  will  carry  the 
dishes  into  the  kitchen,  Mrs.  Lane  shall  wash  them  and 
Mother  wipe  them,  and  you  and  I  will  put  them  back  into 
the  cupboard." 

With  the  sound  of  laughter  and  the  clatter  of  plates 
the  merry  work  went  on.  Then  Jesse  proposed  that  they 
should  all  take  a  walk  up  Broadway,  that  his  mother  might 
see  the  brilliant  lights  and  the  crowds  of  gaily-dressed 
people. 

They  went  into  a  confectioner's  place  and  ate  ice-cream; 
they  joined  the  crowd  in  a  theatre  lobby;  they  examined 
the  giant  presses  through  the  windows  of  a  great  news- 
paper building;  they  looked  into  the  shop-windows;  they 


150          THE   SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

had  coffee  in  a  blue  and  white  tiled  restaurant,  and  then 
rode  home  in  a  surface-car  at  half  past  ten,  tired  and 
happy.  In  amusing  his  mother  Jesse  was  able  to  forget, 
for  the  time  being,  the  weight  of  his  great  secret. 

For  a  week  he  gave  almost  every  hour  to  her  who  had 
given  so  many  hours  to  him.  Mary  Bethel  saw  as  much 
of  New  York  as  a  woman  of  moderate  means  can  see  in 
seven  days.  She,  too,  like  Mrs.  Lane  on  the  first  day  of 
her  sightseeing  with  Jesse,  observed  the  looks  of  wonder- 
ing admiration  that  followed  him  wherever  he  went.  His 
presence  was,  in  a  way,  a  protection  to  her  shyness;  he  was 
so  interesting  that  no  one  looked  beyond  him  to  her. 

"  It  makes  no  difference  what  we  wear,"  said  Mrs.  Lane 
to  her  one  day  as  they  were  putting  on  their  hats  for  a 
visit  to  the  Park.  "  We  are  like  two  inconspicuous  blades 
of  grass  which  grow  beside  a  rose-bush."  And  the  heart 
of  Jesse's  mother  swelled  with  loving  pride. 

At  last  the  hour  of  farewell  came.  On  a  fresh,  sunny 
morning  in  early  April,  Mrs.  Lane  went  with  them  to  the 
station,  and  her  gentle  blue  eyes  were  full  of  tears  all  the 
way  from  Washington  Square  to  Forty-second  Street. 

"  Oh !  shall  I  never  see  you  again  ?  "  she  whispered,  as 
she  clung  to  Jesse's  hand  at  the  foot  of  the  car-steps. 

"  Have  you  not  promised  to  visit  us  in  the  summer  of 
next  year?"  he  smiled  at  her.  "And  don't  you  mean  to 
keep  your  promise  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes;  but,  somehow — Oh,  it  is  so  hard  to  let  you 
go!  "  And  she  put  her  motherly  arms  about  his  neck 
and  kissed  him  with  a  sobbing  good-bye. 

When  the  train  had  started,  Jesse  turned  to  his  mother: 
"  I  could  not  give  a  reason  for  the  impression;  but  I  also 
feel  that  Mrs.  Lane  and  I  will  never  meet  again." 

"  Do  you  think  she  is  going  to  die  ?  " 

"I  cannot  tell."  But  he  did  not  say  that  such  was  not 
his  impression. 

Mary  was  silent  for  some  time.  Then  she  put  out  her 
hand  and  touched  Jesse. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  will  think  me  nervous  or  fanciful," 
she  ventured.  "  Maybe  I  am  both ;  but  through  all  my 
pleasure  in  this  great  city  has  run  a  feeling  of  dread,  of 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          151 

dread  for  you.  Something — I  don't  know  what,  but  some 
great  awful  thing — has  been  hovering  over  me  all  the 
while.  I  have  wakened  three  times  with  a  terrible  dream — 
that  I  had  lost  you  for  ever  among  those  crowds.  Once  I 
got  up  at  dawn  and  went  into  your  room  to  make  sure 
that  you  were  really  there,  the  dream  was  so  vivid." 

"  It  may  be  so,"  he  answered. 

"  Then  promise  me,  Jesse,  that  you  will  never  go  down 
there  again !  " 

"  I  cannot  promise  you  that,   Mother." 

"  But  why  ?  What  is  New  York  to  you  ?  It  is  not 
your  home;  you  do  not  belong  there." 

"A  part  of  my  life  belongs  there,  is  inevitably  there." 

"  I  do  not  understand.  .  .  .  Oh,  Jesse,  you  frighten 
me !  Why  are  your  eyes  so  strange  ?  " 

He  stroked  the  faithful  hand  which  lay  on  his  arm. 

"  Don't  you  agree  with  me  that  one  should  not  be  a 
coward  and  run  away  from  one's  destiny?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  anything  about  destiny!  I  only 
know  that  I  dread  the  thought  of  your  going  again  to  that 
terrible  city.  Suppose  some  awful  thing  should  happen 
to  you  there?" 

"  Well,  suppose  it  should,  little  Mother.  The  price  of 
the  song  is  the  singer." 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

AFTER  the  death  of  Mrs.  Lane,  in  the  following  summer, 
Lawrence  brought  his  two  sisters  to  Myra  for  a  fortnight's 
visit  to  Mary  Bethel  and  Jesse. 

The  two  girls  were  very  unlike.  Martha,  the  elder  by 
two  or  three  years,  was  a  staid  and  almost  matronly 
young  woman,  and  in  her  mourning  garments  appeared 
older  than  she  really  was.  Her  dark  hair  was  parted  and 
worn  in  waveless  bands  on  each  side  of  her  face,  and  her 
steady  grey  eyes  regarded  the  world  as  if  it  were  an  in- 
experienced child  which  it  was  her  duty  to  approve,  or 
reprimand,  or  otherwise  guide  in  the  way  it  should  go. 

Mary  Lane  was  slighter  and  fairer  than  her  sister,  and 
her  yellow-brown  hair  curled  softly  over  a  forehead  which 
concealed  more  intellect  than  practical  judgment.  She  re- 
garded herself — not  the  world — as  the  inexperienced  child, 
and  she  went  to  wise  and  beautiful  books  for  instruction 
to  an  extent  which  called  forth  the  constant  warnings  of 
Martha  that  she  would  spoil  her  eyes.  When  Mary  was 
extremely  rebellious,  for  her,  she  would  gently  reply,  "  To 
what  better  purpose  could  I  use  my  eyes  ?  " 

Mary  had  not  been  more  than  five  minutes  under  the 
same  roof  with  Jesse  Bethel  before  she  perceived  that  here 
at  last  was  the  fellow  dreamer  for  whom  her  loneliness 
had  always  been  yearning. 

"  You  also  love  books,  don't  you  ?  "  she  shyly  observed, 
on  the  morning  of  her  arrival,  glancing  longingly  at  Jesse's 
well-filled  shelves. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  "better  than  anything  else  in  the 
world,  except  my  fellow  beings." 

"  And  you  really  love  your  fellow  beings  ?  " 

"  Deeply.     Don't  you?  " 

"Y-yes,"  she  hesitated,  "when  they  don't  weary  me." 

"The  books  you  enjoy  were  all  written  by  your  fellow 
beings,"  Jesse  answered  her. 

"  Oh ! "  and  her  blue  eyes  opened  wide.  "  But  I've 
never  known  any  of  that  sort  of  people." 

152 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          153 

"  Then  rejoice,  little  sister,  for  you  have  met  one  of 
that  sort  now,"  declared  Lawrence,  who  was  also  in  the 
room.  "  Jesse  talks  in  the  way  those  authors  of  yours 
write,  only  better.  I'd  rather  listen  to  him  than  to  read 
Epictetus." 

Mary  made  no  answer,  and  Jesse  could  not.  The  time 
had  not  yet  come  when  he  had  so  far  sacrificed  himself 
that  he  could  exalt  himself,  as  an  illustration  of  the  prin- 
ciples he  taught.  The  price  of  that  privilege  he  was  not 
yet  rich  enough  to  pay.  So  he  was  modestly  silent  when 
admiring  friends  compared  him  to  the  great  ones  of  the 
past  whom  he  knew  to  be  his  spiritual  kindred. 

During  this  visit  Lawrence  told  Jesse  that  he  had  se- 
lected the  site  for  his  future  suburban  home,  had  bought 
the  land  and  was  gradually  paying  for  it.  An  uncle  of 
his  had  joined  in  the  venture,  and  when  the  lot  was  paid 
for  they  were  going  to  build  a  house. 

"  Shall  you  have  a  tree  with  a  bird's  nest  in  it?  "  Jesse 
asked. 

Lawrence  started  at  the  veiled  reference  to  his  cataleptic 
seizure  of  the  year  before.  "  Oh,  Jesse !  You  won't  say 
anything  to  either  of  the  girls  about  that,  will  you?" 

"  Of  course  not,  without  your  assent.  Have  you  had 
a  recurrence  of  the  trouble  ?  " 

"  No.  But  if  I  ever  should,  I  pray  God  you  may  be 
there  to  bring  me  out  of  it!  I  often  wake  in  the  night 
shivering  with  fear." 

"  I  add  my  prayer  to  yours,"  Jesse  declared  fervently, 
his  eyes  deepening  and  darkening  with  the  force  of  his 
feeling.  "  But  do  not  think  about  it,  Lawrence,  and  do 
not  permit  yourself  to  shiver  with  fear  at  the  thought. 
The  thing  we  fear  is  a  tyrant  possessing  our  souls,  and  if 
we  fear  it  hard  enough  we  draw  it  toward  us  through  the 
power  of  attraction  by  opposites.  Still,  I  think  you  should 
tell  your  sisters,  as  a  precaution  against " 

"  Oh,  no !  "  cried  Lawrence.  "  Martha  would  make  my 
life  a  burden  to  me  by  her  ceaseless  admonitions,  and  the 
knowledge  would  make  Mary  unhappy." 

"  The  right  of  decision  is  unquestionably  yours,"  Jerse 
returned ;  "  my  duty — my  privilege,  even — is  limited  to  the 
offering  of  counsel." 


154          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

One  afternoon  when  Martha  went  upstairs  to  the  room 
the  two  girls  occupied  together,  she  found  her  sister  in 
tears.  Going  to  the  bed  where  Mary  was  lying,  face 
downward,  she  placed  her  motherly  hand  on  the  girl's 
forehead.  Mary  was  gentle  and  subdued,  even  in  weep- 
ing; to  have  torn  her  sister's  heart  by  distressing  sobs  would 
have  seemed  to  her  unkind.  But  Martha  felt,  by  the 
quivering  of  the  slight  form  on  the  bed,  that  whatever 
emotion  Mary  might  be  struggling  with,  it  was  something 
out  of  the  ordinary  course  of  her  quiet,  book-filled  life. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  asked  Martha  sympathetically, 
for  she  deeply  loved  her  dreamy  sister. 

"  I  don't  know,"  was  Mary's  answer,  though  her  tears 
trickled  afresh  over  Martha's  hand. 

"You  can't  possibly  be  crying  about  nothing.  Why  do 
you  tremble  so?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

Martha  pressed  a  soft  kiss  on  the  girl's  cheek,  and  went 
downstairs  to  consult  with  Mary  Bethel. 

"  I  never  knew  my  sister  to  act  like  this  before,"  she 
said,  after  telling  the  older  woman  all  she  knew  about  the 
matter.  "  Can  it  be  possible  that  she  is  going  to  have  an 
illness?" 

"  I  do  not  think  so,"  replied  the  mother  of  Jesse. 

"  Then  why  does  she  quiver  so  ?  and  why  does  even  my 
touch  seem  to  hurt  her?  I  have  never  understood  my  sis- 
ter, though  she  is  dearer  to  me  than  anything  else  in  the 
world;  that  is  why  I  have  come  to  you  now.  Did  you 
ever  cry  like  that  when  you  were  a  girl?  I'm  sure  I  never 
did."  And  the  usually  stolid  Martha  rocked  rapidly  back- 
ward and  forward  in  her  little  wicker  chair. 

Mary  Bethel,  who  was  sitting  opposite,  slowly  threaded 
a  needle  and  sewed  several  stitches  in  the  cambric  garment 
she  was  making  for  her  eldest  son,  before  answering  her 
puzzled  guest.  Finally  she  said: 

"  I  don't  think  you  can  help  the  girl  any  by  making 
yourself  unhappy  about  her.  A  long  time  ago — it  seems 
to  me  now  a  very  long  time  ago — I  was  myself  much  like 
this  other  Mary.  She  reminds  me  of  my  own  youth  con- 
tinually. And  there  was  a  season  in  my  life,  when  I  was 
about  her  age,  that  I  used  to  cry  myself  to  sleep  every 


155 

night.  And  all  day  long,  as  I  went  about  my  duties,  the 
tears  were  waiting  for  the  night  behind  my  eyes.  But 
no  one  ever  knew  anything  about  it.  A  few  years  later  I 
married,  and  my  husband  always  told  me  that  I  was  a  good 
wife  and  mother.  I  am  sure  I  have  been  happy — yes,  hap- 
pier than  any  other  woman  I  know.  So,  if  I  were  you, 
I  wouldn't  trouble  about  my  sister,  and,  above  all,  I 
wouldn't  tell  any  one  else  that  I  had  found  her  crying; 
for  she  would  not  want  them  to  know." 

"  Probably  you  are  right,"  Martha  reluctantly  admitted; 
"  but  still  I  don't  understand." 

Then  she  rose  quickly  and  went  out  into  the  yard,  to 
warn  Lawrence  that  he  would  catch  cold  if  he  sat  on  the 
wet  grass,  for  it  had  been  raining. 

When  she  was  gone,  Mary  Bethel's  hands  lay  motionless 
in  her  lap,  against  the  soft  garment  she  was  making,  and 
her  glance  turned  to  the  open  window — turned  to_  the 
place,  a  short  distance  away,  where  Jesse  was  standing 
bareheaded  beneath  a  tree,  talking  to  Lawrence  and  Mar- 
tha, his  face  alight  with  the  beauty  of  some  flaming 
thought. 

The  mother  knew  why  the  girl  upstairs  had  stolen  away 
to  weep  alone;  but  she  would  not  betray  her  secret  to  the 
unimaginative  sister,  and  she  had  wisely  provided  against 
Martha's  inadvertently  betraying  it  by  making  a  matter  of 
household  curiosity  the  mystery  of  Mary's  tears. 

Soon  the  three  who  had  been  talking  in  the  yard  came 
together  through  the  doorway  of  the  room  where  the 
mother  sat.  Jesse  was  between  the  brother  and  sister, 
a  fraternal  arm  thrown  lightly  about  the  shoulders  of  each. 

"Does  anyone  know  where  Mary  is?"  he  asked.  "I 
haven't  seen  her  for  an  hour." 

"  Mary  is  lying  down,"  replied  Martha.  "  She  often 
takes  a  nap  in  the  afternoon." 

A  few  days  later  came  the  end  of  Lawrence's  vacation, 
and  he  and  his  sisters  returned  to  New  York. 


CHAPTER   XXV 

FOR  five  years  longer  Jesse  lived  quietly,  and  meditated, 
and  worked  at  his  trade  as  carpenter  in  Myra.  He  saved 
some  money,  and  began  building  independently,  thus  win- 
ning for  himself  abundant  leisure  for  study,  and  some  de- 
gree of  material  prosperity.  Those  five  years  were  the 
period  of  his  greatest  growth,  in  mind,  in  faith,  in  con- 
sciousness of  power.  His  very  presence  seemed  to  radiate 
light  as  he  passed  along  the  streets  of  the  little  village  of 
his  adoption.  None  guessed  the  secret  of  his  influence,  but 
everybody  felt  it.  The  beautiful  man  who  dwelt  so  si- 
lently among  them  was  ever  in  the  thoughts  of  these  peo- 
ple; without  knowing  why,  they  found  their  minds  revert- 
ing to  him  at  all  times  and  seasons.  The  young  women 
and  maidens  dreamed  about  him  and  grew  pensive  at  the 
mention  of  his  name;  the  old  women  and  the  mothers 
of  little  children  whom  he  loved  were  open  in  their  en- 
thusiasm for  him;  the  young  men  came  to  him  for  advice 
and  sometimes  for  assistance;  the  old  men  counselled  with 
him  in  the  management  of  their  affairs.  So  those  five  years 
went  by. 

One  day  in  the  spring  after  Jesse  was  twenty-nine  he 
told  his  mother  that  he  had  decided  to  go  to  Capronville, 
a  prosperous  village  some  forty  miles  to  the  south-west,  on 
the  Nashburgh  side  of  the  mountain.  Jesse's  two  brothers 
were  now  married  and  settled  comfortably  in  Myra,  and 
he  advised  his  mother  to  give  up  her  house  and  go  to  live 
with  Henry  and  his  family,  who  had  long  wanted  her. 
Timidly  she  expressed  a  wish  to  go  with  Jesse  to  Capron- 
ville, but  he  told  her  gently  that  he  must  be  alone  for 
a  while. 

"  The  time  is  drawing  near,"  he  said,  "  when  I  shall 
begin  to  preach  to  others  the  great  truth  which  has  in- 
formed my  secret  thoughts  for  years,  and  I  need  to  make 
solitary  preparation." 

156 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL  157 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  spoken  to  her  of  preaching, 
and  she  gazed  at  him  in  astonishment. 

"Why,  Jesse,  are  you  going  to  be  a  minister?  You 
surprise  me.  A  minister!  " 

"Yes,  Mother;  but  not  the  minister  of  any  church.  My 
ministry  will  be  the  preaching  of  myself,  and  I  shall  found 
a  church." 

"  A  church !  "  she  echoed.  "  But  where  will  you  found 
it,  Jesse?  " 

"  I  will  found  my  church  in  the  hearts  of  men." 

"  God  be  with  you !  "  exclaimed  the  mother  fervently, 
her  voice  choked  with  emotion. 

"  God  is  always  with  me  and  within  me,  and  that  is 
a  part  of  the  message  that  I  have  for  men." 

"  I  remember,  dear,"  she  said,  "  when  you  were  a  little 
boy,  how  you  wept  at  the  Grove  camp-meeting  because 
God  would  not  speak  to  you.  God  must  have  spoken  to 
you,  Jesse." 

"  Yes.  And  now  I  must  speak.  But  first  I  want  to  go 
away  for  a  while  and  strengthen  my  spirit  for  the  task." 
Then  he  charged  her  that  she  should  keep  silent  about  the 
matter  until  he  gave  her  leave  to  mention  it. 

To  one  other  person  only  in  Myra  did  Jesse  confide  the 
secret  of  his  plans.  He  told  Rose  Thomas,  the  teacher  of 
his  childhood,  all  that  he  had  told  his  mother.  She  did 
not  seem  to  be  surprised;  had  he  announced  to  her  a  pro- 
ject for  making  himself  King  of  England,  she  would  have 
bidden  him  Godspeed  with  perfect  faith  in  the  certainty 
of  his  achievement.  Could  not  the  man  who,  as  she  firmly 
believed,  had  performed  the  impossible  in  giving  her  a 
place  in  the  school  of  Myra,  do  any  other  thing  he  chose 
to  do?  Such  was  the  reasoning  of  Rose  Thomas.  The 
doubts  and  cavillings  soon  to  beset  his  pathway  were  never 
to  come  from  women ;  they  gave  him  their  sure  belief  and 
help  from  the  beginning,  their  intuitive  and  volatile  minds 
being  quick  to  recognise  and  respond  to  the  call  of  beauty 
and  faith. 

"  Sometime  I  shall  want  you  to  help  me,  Rose,"  he  said. 

"  Whenever  you  send  for  me,  I  shall  be  ready." 

"  Would  you  be  willing  to  leave  all  and  follow  me?  " 

"  Yes." 


158          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"  Would  you  leave  even  the  school  which  means  so  much 
to  you?" 

"  Did  you  not  give  me  the  school,  by  the  power  of  your 
will  and  your  love  for  me  ?  " 

"And   would    you   leave   your   mother?" 

"Are  you  not  leaving  yours?" 

"  When  I  am  ready  I  will  call  you,"  he  said.  "  Mean- 
time tell  no  one  of  our  talk  this  evening."  And  he  passed 
out  from  her  presence. 

The  next  day  Jesse  went  to  Capronville.  He  did  not 
cross  the  mountain  by  the  way  he  had  come  eleven  years 
before,  passing  through  Nashburgh  and  thence  south  by 
the  railroad,  as  he  might  have  done;  for  he  had  no  wish 
at  that  time  to  revisit  his  native  town.  Instead,  he  chose 
the  longer  route,  going  by  the  railroad  from  Myra  south 
to  Bellows  Falls,  then  turning  north  again  on  the  western 
side  of  the  mountains. 

Capronville  was  a  town  where  he  had  never  been,  and 
in  which  he  knew  no  one;  that  was  a  reason  why  he  chose 
it  as  the  scene  of  his  first  efforts  to  make  real  the  sub- 
lime dream  of  his  life.  It  was  a  village  about  the  size 
of  Myra,  on  the  bank  of  a  stream  which  furnished  water- 
power  for  several  small  mills.  Not  far  from  the  village 
was  a  narrow  lake  only  a  few  miles  long.  So  much  Jesse 
knew  about  the  place;  and  for  the  rest  he  trusted  to  that 
power  which  guided  all  his  movements,  the  inner  monitor 
whose  voice  was  heard  in  the  silence.  That  he  should 
find  friends  in  Capronville  and  willing  listeners  to  his 
word,  he  never  doubted.  His  was  the  faith  that  brings 
all  things  to  pass. 

Leaving  his  belongings  at  the  station,  Jesse  walked 
slowly  through  the  village  on  the  afternoon  of  his  arrival. 
He  seemed  to  be  going  nowhere  in  particular,  seemed  to 
have  endless  time  in  which  to  find  a  lodging  for  the  night. 
He  had  a  dislike  for  hotels,  and  never  stayed  in  one  if 
he  could  avoid  it.  Though  he  was  now  well  provided 
with  money,  he  was  looking  for  some  simple  home  which 
should  invite  him  by  its  atmosphere  of  peace  to  dwell 
therein. 

On   the   outskirts  of   the   town   he   saw   a  large   white 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          159 

house  which  pleased  him.  It  was  more  spacious  than  the 
lodging  he  had  had  in  mind;  but  intuition  was  of  more 
authority  with  him  than  preconceived  ideas;  and  he  lifted 
the  latch  of  the  gate. 

A  middle-aged  man  with  a  strong  bearded  face  met 
him  on  the  verandah.  The  blue  eyes  of  the  stranger  were 
keen  but  kind,  his  figure  was  short  and  square,  his  gen- 
eral bearing  upright  and  self-confident.  He  gave  his  hand 
to  Jesse  with  more  of  warmth  than  is  usual  with  New 
Englanders  at  a  first  meeting. 

"Can  I  find  lodging  in  your  house?  "  Jesse  asked,  with 
his  irresistible  smile. 

"You  can  find  lodging  and  a  hearty  welcome,"  an- 
swered the  man,  setting  the  door  of  his  house  wide  open. 
"We  are  rather  a  large  family,  but  there  is  room  for 
you.  Probably  you  dislike  hotels,  the  same  as  I  do.  Give 
me  either  a  home  or  the  open  sky,  I  say;  but  no  man's 
inn  for  me." 

He  led  the  way  to  a  large,  well-furnished  room  on  the 
second  floor. 

"  I  may  be  with  you  for  some  time,"  said  Jesse. 

"  The  longer  the  better,"  replied  the  man.  "  I  knew 
at  the  first  glance  that  you  and  I  had  business  with  each 
other." 

"  My  business  is  to  preach  the  truth,"  said  Jesse. 

"  And  mine  is  to  listen  to  the  truth,  though  there  be 
few  that  speak  it." 

Again  they  measured  each  other  with  their  eyes,  and 
there  was  sealed  between  them  a  wordless  compact  which 
should  survive  all  things. 

"  My  name  is  Jesse  Bethel." 

"  And  mine  is  Peter  Bond." 

"  A  strong  name  for  a  strong  man,"  was  Jesse's  com- 
ment, and  the  two  clasped  hands  the  second  time. 

That  evening  at  the  supper-table  Jesse  met  the  numerous 
family  of  Peter  Bond:  his  wife,  his  mother-in-law,  his 
younger  brother  Andrew,  and  a  merry  group  of  children 
who  called  him  father.  Never  had  Jesse  been  more  pleased 
with  any  man  than  with  this  man.  His  blunt  but  kindly 
speech,  the  steady  look  in  his  eyes  under  their  shaggy  brows, 
the  quiet  strength  in  his  compact  body,  all  these  were  the 


160         THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

basis  of  a  confidence  which  Jesse  had  never  before  given 
to  a  stranger.  Here  was  a  man  on  whom  he  could  de- 
pend in  any  emergency,  one  whose  stubborn  loyalty  would 
not  be  shaken  by  any  wind  that  might  blow  around  him. 

Jesse's  effect  on  the  family  of  this  new-found  friend  was 
something  unparalleled  in  their  lives.  Peter  had  simply 
told  them  that  he  had  given  the  spare-room  to  a  stranger; 
and  when  Jesse  appeared  at  the  supper-table,  the  full 
power  of  his  personality  burst  on  them  suddenly.  The 
children  gazed  at  him  in  admiration  undisguised,  their 
little  eyes  wide  open,  their  soft  mouths  parted.  Peter's 
wife  "  forgot  her  manners,"  as  her  eldest  child  reminded 
her  after  the  meal,  for  she  was  too  much  surprised  at  the 
remarkable  appearance  of  her  guest  to  say  anything  what- 
ever in  response  to  her  husband's  introduction.  They  were 
simple  people,  those  men  of  the  lumber-mills  of  Capron- 
ville  and  their  families.  Peter's  brother  Andrew  was 
silent  throughout  the  supper,  but  he  hardly  took  his  eyes 
from  Jesse's  face;  and  the  wife's  mother,  a  large  and  plac- 
idly-smiling woman  of  sixty,  sustained  with  Peter  the  fam- 
ily's share  of  the  table-talk  on  that  first  night.  Jesse  said 
little  about  himself  in  the  beginning,  but  asked  many  ques- 
tions regarding  the  village  and  its  people. 

"  I  own  the  lumber-mill  down  yonder,"  Peter  said, 
pointing  with  his  thumb  at  a  large  wooden  building  on 
the  river  bank  a  few  rods  away,  "  and  Andrew  and  I 
run  it,  with  a  man  or  two  to  help  us  in  the  busy  season." 

"  We've  lived  here  many  years,"  said  the  mother-in- 
law,  divining  Jesse's  unspoken  question. 

'  Then  you  doubtless  know  everybody  in  the  town." 

"  Guess  I  do,"  answered  Peter,  "  and  many  in  the  neigh- 
bouring towns.  The  village  wasn't  so  large  when  we 
came,  just  a  small  settlement,  with  a  few  stores  and  one 
meeting-house." 

"Are  there  many  churches  here  now?" 

"  Yes,  five,  and  all  of  them  pretty  flourishing." 

"  The  people  are  prosperous,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed."  There  was  a  touch  of  civic  pride  in 
Peter's  voice.  '  The  Caprons  here  are  one  of  the  richest 
families  in  the  State.  The  fine  things  in  their  house  would 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          161 

furnish  a  museum.  The  town  is  named  after  them,  you 
know, — Capronville." 

"It's  not  the  fine  things  in  a  man's  house,  but  the  fine 
things  in  his  heart  which  exalt  him,"  Jesse  replied.  "  It's 
not  having  a  town  named  after  you,  but  being  yourself 
named  after  a  great  cause  which  honours  you  in  the  eyes 
of  God.  The  most  beautiful  thing  in  the  world  is  always 
invisible." 

The  eyes  of  Peter's  eldest  child,  a  boy  of  ten  years,  grew 
large  with  wonder. 

"  Do  you  mean,"  he  asked  eagerly,  "  that  there's  any- 
thing we  can't  see  that's  more  beautiful  than  you  are?" 

"  Yes,  little  one,"  Jesse  answered.  "Do  you  love  roses? 
A  rose  is  fair  to  look  upon,  but  the  perfume  of  the  rose, 
the  sweetest  part  of  it,  was  never  seen  by  any  man;  so  it 
is  with  the  perfume  of  the  heart." 

The  little  boy  came  over  to  Jesse's  chair  and  leaned 
lovingly  against  him.  The  father  would  have  chided  his 
familiarity;  but  Jesse  put  his  arm  about  the  child,  and 
said: 

"As  the  perfume  of  a  rose  to  the  air  of  the  garden,  so 
is  the  love  of  a  child  to  the  breath  of  God." 

Then  one  by  one  the  four  younger  children  left  their 
places  and  gathered  around  Jesse;  they  sat  upon  his  knee, 
they  hung  about  his  neck.  The  eyes  of  the  mother  filled 
with  tears  of  happiness,  and  the  strong  face  of  Peter  grew 
soft.  The  four  grown  people  gazed  in  silence  at  the  beau- 
tiful picture  made  by  the  children  in  the  arms  of  the 
stranger;  and  from  that  hour  this  family  gave  to  Jesse 
the  love  that  knows  no  shadow  of  change  for  ever. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

ANDREW  BOND  was  a  year  younger  than  Jesse;  he  was 
about  the  same  height,  but  bony  and  muscular,  with  a 
thin,  clean-shaven  face,  and  shy,  soft  eyes.  He  was  un- 
married, and,  as  Peter  jokingly  said,  "  too  bashful  to  pay 
attention  to  the  girls."  But  Jesse,  who  saw  to  the  deeps 
of  the  young  man's  nature,  knew  that  when  Andrew  found 
the  girl  he  was  dreaming  about,  his  shyness  would  fall 
from  him  like  a  garment. 

The  next  afternoon  Jesse  was  standing  on  the  back 
verandah,  soon  after  the  noonday  dinner,  gazing  at  the 
blue,  winding  river,  upon  whose  glassy  surface  the  virgin 
green  of  the  May  trees  threw  tender,  flickering  reflections. 
Oh,  Nature's  blue  and  green — divinest  of  all  colours,  most 
soothing  to  the  tired  eyes  of  men!  Do  they  seem  so  lovely 
to  us,  blue  and  green,  because  they  are  the  hues  of  earth 
and  sky,  of  Nature's  robe  and  veil?  Or  did  our  universal 
mother  choose  them  from  a  hundred  colours  unknown  to 
our  narrow  sight,  because  they  were  the  loveliest  of  all? 

Andrew  came  out  on  the  verandah  and  stood  beside  Jesse, 
and  the  two  looked  in  silence  at  the  river.  After  a  time 
Andrew  said,  in  a  low  voice: 

"Pretty,   isn't   it?" 

"  Then  you,  too,  realise  how  beautiful  it  is  ?  And  does 
your  brother  Peter  ?  " 

"  He  never  speaks  of  it." 

"  That  proves  nothing.  Some  worship  beauty  with  ec- 
static words,  others  with  silence;  but  none  can  say  which 
feels  it  most." 

"  Where  did  you  learn  all  the  wonderfully  true  things 
you  say?  "  asked  Andrew.  "  I  never  knew  a  man  who 
speaks  as  you  speak." 

"  I  listen  to  my  heart  in  the  silence,"  Jesse  replied. 

"  If  I  should  listen  to  mine,  would  I  hear  such  things?  " 

"You  might." 

162 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          163 

"  I'm  surer  of  hearing  them,  I  guess,  if  I  listen  to 
you,"  Andrew  said.  "  I'm  not  working  at  the  mill  this 
afternoon.  Shall  we  take  a  walk  about  the  village,  and 
maybe  into  the  open  fields  on  the  other  side?  " 

"  You  have  spoken  my  wish,"  Jesse  answered.  "  How 
did  you  guess  it?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Perhaps  you  heard  it  by  listening  in  silence." 

"  Can  such  things  be?  " 

"  Such  things  are." 

The  two  men  strolled  down  the  unpaved  road  toward 
the  centre  of  the  village.  They  passed  an  apple  orchard, 
all  pink  and  white  with  blossoms,  and  Andrew,  leaning 
over  the  fence,  broke  off  two  sprays  of  the  fragrant  love- 
liness, one  for  himself  and  one  for  Jesse,  and  they  fas- 
tened them  in  the  lapel  of  their  coats. 

"  Whenever  a  man  has  pleasure  in  a  flower,"  said  Jesse, 
"  then  God  rejoices  that  he  made  it." 

Andrew  looked  at  him.  "  Do  you  never  open  your  lips 
without  saying  something  which  a  man  remembers?" 

"  Why,"  Jesse  answered,  smiling,  "  even  Moses  must 
often  have  said,  '  Please  pass  the  salt,'  and  made  common- 
place remarks  about  the  weather." 

A  little  farther  on,  they  passed  a  sullen-looking  man 
who  was  mending  a  fence.  He  did  not  look  up,  and  went 
on  hammering;  but  glancing  back,  Jesse  saw  the  man  look- 
ing after  him  with  curious  interest. 

"Who  is  that?"  he  asked. 

"  The  most  disagreeable  man  in  the  village,"  answered 
Andrew.  "  I  dislike  him,  and  he  hates  me." 

"  Try  loving  him  for  a  time,"  Jesse  suggested,  with  a 
quick  glance  and  a  smile  at  his  companion ;  "  perhaps  he 
will  not  hate  you  any  more." 

"  How  could  I  love  a  man  like  that?  "  Andrew's  look 
was  incredulous.  "  You  seem  to  love  everybody ;  but  is 
there  nobody  in  the  world  who  dislikes  you?  " 

Jesse's  thoughts  went  back  to  Thomas  Taylor,  his  enemy 
in  Nashburgh,  and  he  answered:  "Yes,  there  is  one  man 
who  has  hated  me  from  my  childhood;  but  he  has  never 
made  me  hate  him.  Beware  of  hatred,  Andrew.  Though 
your  enemy  should  burn  your  house  and  malign  you  in 


1 64          THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL 

the  ears  of  men,  he  has  not  really  injured  you — the  im- 
mortal, indestructible  you  which  dwells  in  the  centre  of 
your  being;  but  if  your  enemy  succeeds  in  making  you 
hate  him,  then  has  he  done  you  the  great  injury." 

"  John  never  told  me  that,"  said  Andrew ;  "  though  he 
has  told  me  many  wise  things." 

"  John  ?  "     Jesse's  tone  was  full  of  sudden  interest. 

"  Yes,  John  the  Hermit.  We  never  call  him  anything 
else.  Do  you  know  him?  " 

"  I  met  him  once,  years  ago,  on  the  mountain  a  few 
miles  from  Myra;  but  I  have  not  seen  him  since.  Where 
is  he  nnw?  " 

"  Somewhere  around  Burlington.  He  passes  to  and  fro, 
wherever  the  spirit  leads  him;  sometimes  he  is  with  his 
friends,  sometimes  alone  on  the  mountains.  John  is  a 
wonderful  man." 

"  Are  you  a  friend  of  his,  Andrew?  " 

"Yes,  I  spent  a  month  with  him  last  fall." 

"  Do  you  know  whether  he  has  found  the  one  he  seeks  ?  " 

"  I  know  that  he  has  not ;  but  he  will  search  until  he 
finds  him." 

"  Why  do  you  not  remain  with  John,  if  you  are  his 
pupil?" 

"  I  stay  with  him  sometimes;  but  I  have  my  work  to 
do,  my  work  here  at  the  mill." 

"  But  if  you  should  find  the  one  whom  John  is  seek- 
ing, would  you  remain  with  him  ?  " 

"You  mean,  would  I  remain  with  John?" 

"  I  mean,  would  you  remain  with  the  greater  teacher  ? 
Would  you  leave  your  work,  the  mill,  everything?" 

A  strange  light  came  into  the  face  of  the  quiet  fellow, 
and  the  eyes  he  turned  to  Jesse  were  deep  and  dark. 

"  If  I  should  find  the  great  one  himself,"  said  Andrew, 
"  then  I  would  follow  him  for  ever." 

Jesse  made  no  answer,  and  they  walked  on  in  silence. 
Not  yet  could  he  reveal  himself  to  the  pupil  of  John,  not 
yet  could  he  declare  himself  the  one  they  sought;  for  they 
must  recognise  him  of  themselves.  But  how  near  now 
seemed  the  blossoming  of  his  life's  great  flower! 

"  Andrew,"  he  said  suddenly,  "  is  Peter  also  a  disciple 
of  John?" 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          165 

"  No,  he  has  never  even  seen  him." 

Jesse  knew  this,  before  he  asked  the  question;  but  he 
often  put  his  inner  certainties  to  the  test  of  speech. 

"  Tell  me  more  about  John/'  he  said. 

"Why,  I  saw  him  first  last  summer,  when  I  went  to 
Burlington  on  business  for  the  mill.  He  has  only  been 
preaching  a  short  time,  though  he  has  been  wandering  on 
the  mountains  for  years.  At  first  the  people  in  Burlington 
took  him  for  a  madman;  but  they  soon  came  to  understand 
that  madmen  don't  talk  like  John.  He  has  a  whole  crowd 
of  followers;  but  he  is  a  hard  master,  lives  on  dry  bread 
and  fruit,  mostly,  and  thinks  other  men  ought  to  do  the 
same.  He  despises  pleasure  of  all  sorts,  and  doesn't  care 
for  beautiful  things.  He  would  never  wear  apple-blossoms 
in  his  coat,  as  you  do.  In  fact,  he  usually  doesn't  wear  a 
coat,  just  a  blanket  around  his  shoulders  when  it's  cold. 
Men  have  told  me  that  he  walks  around  in  the  snow  some- 
times with  naked  feet.  He  seems  to  enjoy  being  uncom- 
fortable; pain  is  a  kind  of  pleasure  to  him." 

"  The  cups  of  pain  and  pleasure  contain  the  same  fluid," 
Jesse  said.  "  I  suppose  John  didn't  tell  you  that." 

"  No.  He  doesn't  talk  like  you,  but  his  talk  is  great, 
all  the  same;  though  it's  mostly  about  repentance,  and 
about  getting  ready  for  some  dreadful  thing  that's  going 
to  happen.  Even  the  Governor  is  afraid  of  him.  One  day 
John  stood  in  front  of  the  Governor's  house  and  preached 
in  a  loud  voice  against  the  sin  of  riches.  I  heard  him. 
They  say  the  old  man  didn't  come  by  his  money  very  hon- 
estly; but  that's  as  may  be,  for  I  don't  know  anything 
about  it.  But  I  know  that  John  makes  people  listen  to 
him.  When  he  stands  up  in  the  streets  of  a  town  and 
begins  to  talk,  you  couldn't  count  the  people  in  the  crowds 
that  come  out  to  hear.  He  baptises  folks,  too.  He  bap- 
tised me  in  the  lake  up  there,  and  I've  felt  like  another 
man  ever  since.  I  don't  know  what  there  is  about  him; 
but  he  makes  men  feel  there's  something  more  important 
in  life  than  just  to  earn  money  and  spend  it  on  them- 
selves." 

"  Shall  you  return  to  him  ?  "  Jesse  asked. 

"  Bye  and  bye,  when  the  mood  is  on  me." 

"  Has  John  any  followers  in  Capronville,  except  you  ?  " 


1 66          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"No;  his  men  are  mostly  from  the  North;  he  never 
came  down  here." 

"  I  have  a  great  interest  in  this  man,  Andrew." 

"  Maybe  you'd  like  to  go  with  me,  when  I  go  back  to 
him?" 

"  I  will  tell  you  when  to  go,"  said  Jesse,  "  and  I  will 
certainly  go  with  you;  but  not  yet." 

"  Whenever  you  say,"  Andrew  assented.  "  I  guess 
you'd  have  more  influence  over  me  than  John,  anyway. 
He's  too  severe  for  me;  he  won't  even  let  his  pupils 
marry." 

"  And  do  you  want  to  marry?  " 

The  young  man  blushed.  "  I  haven't  thought  much 
about  it.  But  do  you  think  it's  wrong  for  a  man  to 
marry?  " 

"  No,  not  when  his  time  comes.  But  I  think  your  time 
has  not  come.  He  only  is  fit  to  marry  who  can  be  happy 
unmarried.  He  only  is  fit  to  be  rich  who  is  willing  to  be 
poor." 

They  went  through  the  main  streets  of  the  village,  and 
Andrew  pointed  out  the  more  important  buildings  and  the 
more  important  people.  As  always,  wherever  Jesse  went, 
men  and  women  stood  still  in  the  street  and  gazed  after 
him.  The  place  was  not  so  small  that  any  stranger  could 
attract  attention,  and  Andrew  soon  perceived  the  inter- 
est which  centred  in  his  new  friend. 

"  They  stare  at  you,"  he  said,  "  the  way  they  stare  at 
John  up  north,  only  their  eyes  are  different.  They'd  never 
call  you  a  madman,  as  they  call  John;  more  likely  they'd 
all  love  you,  the  same  as  our  folks  do." 

As  they  climbed  the  long  hill  toward  Peter's  house, 
they  again  passed  by  the  sullen-looking  man  who  was 
still  mending  the  fence.  He  was  verging  on  middle-age, 
and  could  never  have  been  handsome;  but  something 
in  the  deep-lined  face  appealed  to  Jesse's  pity;  a 
shadow,  as  of  secret  suffering,  enveloped  the  man's  whole 
being. 

"  Andrew,"  said  Jesse,  "  that  man  is  disagreeable  be- 
cause he  is  not  happy.  I'd  like  to  see  a  smile  on  that  heavy 
face.  We  will  stop  and  speak  with  him." 

"  But,"  Andrew  hesitated,  "  he  and  I  haven't  exchanged 
a  word  for  six  months,'* 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          167 

"  Then  let  your  first  word  to  him  be  my  name ;  you  will 
find  it  a  charm  against  anger." 

They  paused  before  the  fence,  and  Andrew  spoke  the 
name  of  his  friend  in  introduction  to  Judson  Carey.  To 
his  astonishment  the  man  came  forward,  holding  out  his 
hand,  first  to  Jesse  and  then  to  him. 

"  I  saw  you  walking  by,  an  hour  or  two  ago,"  he  said 
to  Jesse,  "  and  I  wondered  who  you  were.  We  don't  see 
many  strangers  in  Capronville,  especially — "  he  hesitated 
for  a  fitting  phrase — "especially  like  you." 

"  Are  you  a  native  of  this  place  ?  "  Jesse  asked. 

"  No,  I've  been  here  only  a  couple  of  years ;  came  from 
up  north,  on  the  other  side  of  the  lake." 

Jesse  noticed  that  the  stranger's  eyes  were  on  the  apple- 
blossoms  in  his  coat.  He  detached  the  flowers,  offering 
them  with  a  smile  to  this  man  who  seemed  no  longer  to 
be  sullen. 

"Wouldn't  you  like  to  have  the  apple-blossoms?  I  will 
fasten  them  for  you,  and  they  will  make  your  afternoon  of 
work  seem  pure  and  lovely  as  a  May  dawn." 

Jesse  now  saw  the  smile  he  had  hoped  for;  it  began  in 
the  eyes,  where  a  smile  should  begin,  and  lighted  the  whole 
face. 

"  I  really  don't  know,"  said  the  man,  "  when  anybody 
has  offered  me  a  flower  before!  I  thank  you." 

Andrew  had  been  looking  on  in  silence.  Suddenly  he 
said: 

"  Won't  you  come  up  to  our  house  some  evening,  Jud- 
son? I'm  sure  Peter  and  I  would  both  be  glad  to  see 
you.  We  were  speaking  of  you  only  the  other  day."  An- 
drew was  glad  that  he  was  not  called  upon  to  give  the 
substance  of  the  conversation  referred  to  between  himself 
and  Peter;  but  any  man  whom  Jesse  seemed  to  like  must 
have  some  sound — even  though  hitherto  undiscovered — 
qualities  to  recommend  him. 

"  I'll  be  glad  to  come,"  Judson  answered  pleasantly. 
"  Now  I  think  of  it,  I  haven't  been  up  to  your  house  since 
I  left  off  working  in  the  mill." 

When  Jesse  and  Andrew  were  alone  again,  climbing 
the  hill  toward  the  house,  Jesse  said: 

"  You  didn't  tell  me  that  Judson  Carey  had  worked 
in  your  mill.  How  did  he  come  to  leave  it?" 


168          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"  Why,  Peter  discharged  him.  We  found  he  wasn't 
over-honest." 

Jesse's  memory  flew  back  eleven  years,  to  Marty  White, 
of  Nashburgh.  "  I  once  had  a  friend  who  stole  a  cow," 
he  said,  "  and  it  cost  me  much  anxiety  and  some  money 
to  help  him  out  of  his  trouble;  but  I  haven't  heard  that 
he  ever  repeated  the  offence." 

"  Suppose  he  had ;  would  you  have  helped  him  again  ?  " 

"  Yes.  But  tell  me  more  about  Judson  Carey.  Is  he 
married?  " 

"  No,  Judson  is  a  bachelor.  He  cares  too  much  about 
money  to  share  it  with  a  woman." 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Jesse,  "  I  wouldn't  tell  people,  if 
I  were  you,  why  this  man  left  the  mill.  Bad  reputations 
have  made  as  many  dishonest  men  as  dishonest  men  have 
made  bad  reputations." 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

ONE  evening,  a  few  days  later,  Jesse  was  walking  alone 
on  the  green  hill  beyond  the  village.  It  was  a  little  after 
sunset,  that  vague  mysterious  hour  which  is  neither  night 
nor  day,  when  the  old  and  solid  earth  seems  trying  to  re- 
member the  far-off,  nebulous  days  of  her  youth.  In  the 
pellucid  afterglow  of  the  departed  sun,  the  grass  is  greener 
than  at  midday;  the  world  is  flooded  with  a  spiritual  light, 
more  immaterial  than  sunshine,  more  mystical  than  shadow, 
a  light  that  seems  to  be  diffused  through  alabaster.  In 
that  strange  hour,  to  those  who  have  the  seeing  eye  the 
sylphs  appear  and  float  with  airy  forms  a  little  way  above 
the  earth,  and  round  the  dark  roots  of  old  trees  the  gnomes 
foregather.  If  in  some  lonely  place  a  man  should  build  a 
fire  of  brushwood,  and  keeping  very  still  should  fix  his  eyes 
upon  the  leaping  flames,  he  might  see  the  mythical  sala- 
manders dancing  in  the  scarlet  halls  and  alcoves  of  their 
elemental  mansions.  It  is  the  hour  when  Nature  is  least 
reticent  of  her  secrets,  the  time  when  she  will  answer  ques- 
tions which  would  seem  too  daring  if  uttered  in  the  noon- 
day. To  one  alone  she  will  tell  much;  but  if  two  beings, 
in  perfect  harmony  with  her  and  with  each  other,  shall 
come  together  to  the  door  of  her  unguarded  tent,  and 
holding  out  their  palms  shall  ask  of  her  the  boon  of  hid- 
den knowledge,  of  the  unseen  and  of  the  future,  sometimes 
— only  sometimes — she  will  respond  to  their  united  prayer. 
It  is  also  the  hour  of  faith,  when  one  believes  that  won- 
derful dreams  come  true,  when  one  believes  that  the  Ideal 
may  leave  the  skies  and  dwell  with  the  real  on  earth. 

In  that  hour  after  sunset,  on  the  green  hill  beyond  the 
town,  Jesse  met  for  the  first  time  the  one  whose  faith  in 
him  and  in  his  dream  was  to  be  deeper  than  that  of  any 
other  man,  one  who  was  destined  to  carry  the  belief  in 
him  and  the  face-to-face  remembrance  of  him  to  an  almost 
incredible  old  age.  He  met  John  Dana. 

Standing  on  the  crest  of  the  height,  Jesse  was  impelled 

169 


170          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

to  turn  and  look  down  toward  the  village.  There  he  saw, 
on  the  narrow  path,  the  slender  and  graceful  figure  of  a 
young  man,  hardly  more  than  a  youth,  coming  quickly  up 
the  hill.  The  soft  locks  on  his  uncovered  head  seemed  to 
have  retained  the  sunlight  that  was  gone,  and  the  eager, 
upturned  face  was  fair  and  sensitive  as  a  woman's.  He 
came  straight  to  Jesse,  holding  out  his  hand  as  to  an  old 
friend. 

"  Andrew  told  me  to  come,"  he  said,  simply  as  a  child 
might  explain  its  presence.  "  He  thought  you  would  like 
to  see  me.  I  am  Andrew's  friend,  and  my  name  is  John 
Dana." 

That  was  all  the  introduction  which  began  the  friend- 
ship between  these  two.  He  was  Andrew's  friend — that 
seemed  to  be  enough. 

"  Let  us  sit  down,"  John  suggested.  "  I  ran  all  the 
way  up  the  hill  and  am  out  of  breath.  How  lovely  the 
sky  is  to-night,  and  the  soft  light  on  the  grass!  .  .  . 
Are  you  glad  I  came  ?  " 

"  More  glad  than  I  have  words  to  speak.  I  think  I 
must  have  been  looking  for  you  a  long  time." 

"  How  bewilderingly  beautiful  you  are!  "  were  John's 
next  words.  "  I  never  knew  that  a  human  being  could 
look  like  both  an  angel  and  a  man.  I  wonder  .  .  . 
You  are  a  dreamer,  too?" 

"  A  dreamer  of  strange  dreams,  yes,"  Jesse  answered, 
gazing  off  at  the  distant  mountains. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  your  dreams  ?  " 

Jesse  turned  and  looked  at  him.  There  was  no  barrier 
to  confidence  in  that  fresh  and  wistful  face,  rather  an  in- 
vitation to  the  fullest  self-revealing. 

"  My  dream,"  he  said,  "  is  to  transform  the  world." 

"  And  may  I  help  you  ?  I  long  intensely  to  do  some- 
thing beautiful!  Ever  since  I  can  remember  I  have  had 
a  feeling  which  I  could  not  tell  to  anyone,  that  I  should 
sometime  find  a  great  work  to  do — a  wonderful  work. 
May  I  help  you  to  transform  the  world?" 

"  I  think,"  said  Jesse,  very  slowly,  as  if  weighing  ev- 
ery word,  "  I  think  that  you  will  help  me  more  than  any 
other  man,  more  even  than  Peter." 

"Peter?"   John's  voice  was  full   of   questions.     "But 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL  171 

Peter  is  so  matter-of-fact,  so  unimaginative!  Will  he  help, 
too?" 

"  Yes,  though  he  doesn't  know  it  now ;  the  time  to  tell 
him  is  not  yet." 

"But  what  shall  we  do  first?  and  when  shall  we  be- 
gin ?  "  The  boy's  manner  was  all  nervous  eagerness.  He 
sat  looking  up  at  Jesse,  hanging  on  his  answer. 

"  First  I  shall  go  to  Burlington,  where  John  the  Her- 
mit is  preaching.  You  will  go  with  me,  and  Peter,  and 
Andrew,  and  Judson  Carey?  " 

"Will   Peter  really  go?" 

"  He  will  do  whatever  I  tell  him.  You  will  all  do 
whatever  I  tell  you,  from  now  on  through  my  life." 

John  held  out  his  small  brown  hand.  "  I  will  follow 
you  to  the  end  of  the  world." 

"  You  have  'the  perfect  faith,"  said  Jesse,  "  the  absolute 
faith  which  carries  everything  before  it,  including  the  love 
of  its  teacher.  Why,  little  one,  though  I  have  a  great 
truth  for  the  world,  so  far  I  have  taught  you  nothing.  I 
have  not  spoken  a  thousand  words  to  you,  and  yet  you  are 
ready  to  follow  me!  " 

"  Yes.  I  feel  your  greatness.  I  couldn't  express  to  any- 
one else  just  what  I  mean,  though  I  have  read  many  books, 
and  those  who  have  read  fewer,  fancy  that  I  have  some 
learning.  Andrew  has  repeated  to  me  some  of  your  beau- 
tiful sayings;  but  it  wasn't  those  words  which  made  me 
climb  the  hill  this  evening.  I  think  it  was  your  spirit 
that  drew  mine.  But,  tell  me,  if  I  may  ask  'you  such  a 
question,  why  do  you  want  to  go  to  John  the  Hermit? 
Do  you  think  that  he  will  teach  you  anything?" 

!!N°-" 

"  Then  why  do  you  want  to  go,  and  to  take  me — and 
the  others?" 

"  We  go,"  Jesse  answered,  "  that  John  may  teach  those 
others  something  which  they  have  need  to  know." 

"And  will  he  teach  me  that  something,  also?" 

"  You  know  it  already,  little  one."1 

"  I  know "  John  hesitated,  his  eyes  wide  and  burn- 
ing with  excitement. 

"  You  know  that  I  am  the  one  whom  John  the  Hermit 
seeks." 


172          THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

With  sweet  humility  the  boy  touched  with  his  bright  head 
the  feet  of  his  companion.  He  spoke  no  word,  but  raising 
himself,  gazed  and  gazed  into  the  exalted  face  of  Jesse. 

"  For  a  time,  John,  let  this  be  a  secret  between  us  two. 
We  will  go  to  the  Hermit  three  days  from  now." 

"  And  what  shall  I  call  you  ?  "  John  asked,  in  a  voice 
that  trembled. 

"  In  the  presence  of  the  others  you  will  call  me  Jesse. 
When  we  are  alone  together  you  may  call  me — whatever 
your  heart  prompts." 

"  Master!"  whispered  the  boy,  and  burst  into  tears. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

ON  a  sunny  morning  in  early  June  they  started  for 
Burlington,  where  John  the  Hermit  was  preaching:  Jesse, 
Peter  and  Andrew,  John  and  Judson  Carey.  At  that 
time  none  of  them,  save  John  in  his  secret  thoughts,  was 
indissolubly  linked  with  the  new  teacher.  Jesse  had  asked 
each  of  them  to  go  with  him  as  one  friend  would  ask  an- 
other. Peter  was  surprised  when  Jesse  first  spoke  of  visit- 
ing the  Hermit.  He  had  heard  of  Andrew's  sojourn  with 
him  in  the  autumn  of  the  year  before;  but  Andrew  was 
one  who  seldom  spoke  his  thoughts,  and  Peter  did  not 
know  how  deep  an  impression  the  words  and  person  of 
the  stern  wanderer  had  made  upon  his  brother. 

"  Of  course  I'll  go,"  Peter  said  to  Jesse,  "  though  I've 
never  left  the  mill  alone  before.  But  I'm  really  going 
more  to  be  in  your  company  than  to  hear  the  preaching 
of  the  Hermit." 

"  Nevertheless,  he  has  a  special  message  for  you,"  was 
Jesse's  puzzling  answer. 

The  words  remained  with  Peter;  they  echoed  in  his 
ears  when  he  awoke  at  dawn;  he  thought  of  them  at  in- 
tervals all  day,  and  after  he  went  to  bed  at  night.  What 
message  could  the  Hermit  have  for  him?  and  how  could 
Jesse  know  of  it?  Already  he  was  aware  that  his  strange 
guest  was  intimate  with  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  other 
men;  but  how  could  he  know  the  future?  By  the  time  the 
day  came  for  the  journey,  there  was  no  one  among  the 
little  band  of  pilgrims  who  looked  forward  with  more  in- 
terest than  Peter  to  the  outcome  of  their  undertaking.  A 
special  message  for  him!  What  could  it  mean! 

The  dreamy  John  was  all  a-tremble  with  eagerness.  He 
walked  restlessly  about  the  station  platform  while  they 
were  waiting  for  the  train,  returning  now  and  then  to 
Jesse's  side  to  smile  at  him  with  an  understanding  faith 
that  was  beautiful  to  see. 

Andrew  stood  quietly,  but  mixed  emotions  struggled  in 

i73 


174          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

his  heart.  He  was  going  back  to  one  whom  he  reverenced 
and  half-feared,  going  with  a  greater  teacher  whom  he 
feared  not  and  reverenced  even  more.  He  knew  that 
should  the  time  ever  come  when  he  had  to  choose  between 
them,  he  would  follow  this  new  friend,  because  he  loved 
him  more  than  he  loved  the  austere  dweller  in  the  forests. 
How  great  a  teacher  Jesse  really  was  he  had  no  means 
of  knowing  at  this  time;  but  he  felt  in  him  a  spiritual 
power  which  made  even  the  power  of  the  Hermit  seem 
almost  weakness  by  comparison.  Jesse  could  read  in  An- 
drew's eyes  a  story  that  was  hidden  from  the  others,  and 
he  glanced  at  him  from  time  to  time  with  a  sympathy 
which  any  spoken  words,  however  sweet,  would  have  made 
almost  unendurably  intense. 

Judson  busied  himself  in  buying  their  tickets,  Peter  and 
the  others  having  given  him  the  necessary  money.  The 
quick,  observing  eyes  of  the  young  John  had  noticed  with 
what  exquisite  tact  Jesse  arranged  this  thing,  making  it 
seem  a  matter  of  course  that  the  formerly  discredited  man 
should  be  entrusted  with  their  purses.  Judson  saw  it,  also, 
and  in  his  soul  resented  it;  though  he  was  quick  to  avail 
himself  of  the  offered  dignity. 

As  Jesse  gazed  upon  his  little  band  of  followers,  his  dis- 
ciples (though  they  knew  it  not),  his  mind  went  back  to 
that  far  time  when  the  boy  with  the  fiery  heart,  the  boy 
that  was  himself,  had  stood  alone  between  the  oak  and 
maple-tree  beside  the  road  in  Nashburgh,  and  gazing  on 
the  glory  of  the  western  sun,  father  and  sustainer  of  the 
universe,  had  flung  his  arms  into  the  air  and  cried  in  the 
wild  joy  of  sudden  revelation,  "  I  myself  am  God ! " 
Could  he  ever  make  these  other  gods  beside  him  realise 
the  glory  of  their  inheritance,  their  unity  with  him  and 
with  the  Father?  So  full  of  passion  was  his  hope,  so 
great  his  dream,  that  his  very  body  seemed  illuminated, 
his  eyes  were  like  blue  flames,  and  the  four  men  beside 
him  gazed  in  amazement  at  his  face. 

Who  was  this  beautiful  being?  they  suddenly  wondered. 
How  came  he  to  be  their  friend?  Why  was  he  taking 
them  on  this  journey?  and  what  would  the  end  be?  There 
came  to  them,  as  in  a  flash  of  light,  the  revelation  of  some 
mysterious  destiny  connected  with  this  man  before  them, 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          175 

a  destiny  in  which  their  lives  would  be  involved.  They 
were  almost  afraid,  and  their  hearts  beat  fast;  but  deeper 
than  the  vague,  instinctive  dread  of  the  unknown  which 
made  them  tremble,  was  a  high  joy  which  filled  their 
hearts  with  strength  and  certainty  of  faith.  No  ordinary 
journey  was  before  them;  this  pure  June  day  was  preg- 
nant with  great  meanings.  They  could  not  have  put  these 
feelings  into  words,  for  their  minds  were  too  untrained 
in  subtle  thought  to  formulate  such  vast  impressions;  but 
in  the  region  of  soul-consciousness  that  lies  beyond  the  in- 
tellect, they  felt  these  things. 

All  the  way  north  on  the  train  the  atmosphere  of  power 
and  mystery  surrounded  them.  It  may  have  been  the 
potency  of  Jesse's  thoughts  that  quickened  theirs;  for  all 
the  aspiration  of  his  former  years  seemed  to  be  culminating 
in  the  exaltation  that  now  possessed  and  moved  him.  The 
very  landscape  outside  the  open  windows  of  the  car  he 
saw  as  through  a  clarifying  lens.  Few  words  were  spoken 
on  that  morning  journey,  for  the  awe  that  held  their  spirits 
also  held  their  lips.  To  speak  of  ordinary  things  would 
have  seemed  a  profanation  of  the  hour,  and  none  could 
speak  the  feelings  that  enthralled  him;  none  would  have 
dared,  even  had  he  the  words. 

When  the  train  came  to  Nashburgh,  Jesse  told  his  four 
companions  that  they,  were  approaching  the  region  of  his 
early  life.  Eleven  years  had  passed  since  he  beheld  these 
scenes,  eleven  years  since  he  went  through  the  old 
wooden  bridge  beyond  the  railway-track  and  turned  down 
the  Creek  road  which  led  to  his  old  home.  Scarcely  a 
thing  was  changed.  The  meadows  by  the  river  lay  green 
and  yellow  in  the  sunlight,  as  of  old;  the  winding  thread 
of  water  was  familiar  as  the  sight  of  his  own  face  in  the 
mirror. 

When  the  train  stopped  at  the  station  Jesse  leaned  out 
of  the  window  and  looked  along  the  platform.  The  same 
station-master  whom  he  remembered  was  rushing  here  and 
there  with  papers  in  his  hand,  a  little  older,  a  little  bent 
with  eleven  added  years  of  work  and  waiting,  but  other- 
wise the  same.  On  the  end  of  the  platform,  by  the  open 
door  of  the  freight-room,  he  saw  the  figure  of  his  old 
enemy,  Thomas  Taylor.  The  years  had  hardly  touched 


176          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

him.  He  was  the  only  one  of  the  little  group  who  saw 
and  recognised  Jesse.  A  quick  look  at  each  other,  an  in- 
clination of  the  head  in  token  of  remembrance — that  was 
all,  and  the  train  moved  on.  Among  the  persons  who 
came  into  the  car  at  Nashburgh  there  was  no  one  whom 
Jesse  had  ever  seen  before.  Why  should  Thomas  Taylor 
have  been  the  only  one  of  all  those  old-time  neighbours  to 
recognise  him  on  this  day  of  destiny?  He  would  have 
chosen  otherwise.  The  incident  was  like  a  warning  that 
here  in  the  region  of  his  birth  he  would  not  find  the  sym- 
pathy he  craved.  But  in  another  moment  the  sight  of 
Marty  White's  old  house  by  the  river  drove  all  thought 
of  Thomas  Taylor  from  his  mind. 

Another  flying  mile,  and  over  the  tops  of  the  trees  he 
saw,  on  its  hill,  the  white  schoolhouse  which  he  had  helped 
his  father  to  build,  in  the  summer  of  his  fifteenth  year. 
Coming  nearer,  he  saw  a  group  of  little  children  playing 
round  the  steps.  Why,  not  one  of  these  small  learners  in 
the  house  of  his  building  was  born  when  last  he  looked 
upon  his  handiwork!  North  of  the  schoolhouse  was  the 
pasture  where  he  had  played  as  a  little  boy;  in  the  shadow 
of  that  elm-tree  on  the  rocks  he  had  sucked  the  snake-bite 
of  his  terrified  schoolfellow,  at  the  time  when  Mary  Mag- 
nus was  visiting  the  school. 

But  all  these  objects  of  dear  memory  receded  in  the 
distance,  and  he  beheld,  on  a  ridge  of  rising  ground,  the 
old  grey-blue  house  of  his  birth.  O  wonderful,  O  mystical 
house  of  birth!  No  other  pile,  of  wood  or  stone,  how- 
ever grand,  however  beautiful,  can  touch  the  soul  like  this. 
Here  memory  itself  walks  softly,  with  bated  breath;  here 
do  the  wistful  first  impressions  of  the  soul  return  to  it 
again  in  later  days.  The  heart  of  Jesse  grew  larger,  his 
mind  clearer,  the  tendencies  of  his  life  more  unified,  for 
this  brief  glimpse  of  his  earliest  earthly  home.  From  this 
bath  in  the  pure  waters  of  his  childhood  he  seemed  to  rise 
refreshed  for  the  labours  of  his  manhood,  the  supermortal 
labours  that  now  called  him.  A  moment  more,  and  the  old 
blue-grey  house,  the  apple-trees  and  the  green  meadow  had 
disappeared  as  pictures  in  a  dream. 


CHAPTER    XXIX 

ARRIVED  at  Burlington,  Jesse  sent  Peter  to  inquire 
where  John  the  Hermit  was  preaching.  They  were  di- 
rected to  a  large  open  space  outside  the  town,  on  the  bor- 
der of  the  river;  and  when  still  far  off  they  knew  the 
place,  because  of  the  crowd  of  people  that  made  dark  the 
landscape. 

On  a  natural  elevation,  a  little  hillock,  the  prophet  stood 
and  talked  in  a  loud,  harsh  voice,  and  the  people  listened 
as  to  the  word  of  one  inspired.  Truly  a  strange  man  was 
this  who  made  himself  the  mouthpiece  of  the  great  Law, 
an  almost  incredibly  strange  man.  He  looked  like  some 
antique  prophet  from  the  borders  of  Asia,  not  like  a  being 
of  our  day  and  generation.  He  was  of  a  stature  beyond 
the  usual  height  of  man ;  his  scanty  garment  of  grey  wool 
was  girt  about  the  wTaist  with  a  leather  strap,  and  his  long 
black  hair  and  beard,  already  prematurely  touched  with 
grey,  fell  in  masses  about  his  breast  and  shoulders.  His 
great  dark  eyes  burned  with  the  fire  of  an  irresistible  idea, 
and  every  man  or  woman  touched  by  his  fiery  glance  felt 
a  profound  disquiet,  as  of  a  buried  conscience  clamouring 
to  be  heard.  This  wTas  no  gentle  teacher  of  altruistic  sen- 
timents, bearing  the  message  of  love;  but  rather  the  voice 
of  one  crying  in  the  wilderness  of  eternity  against  the 
vice  and  luxury  of  self-indulgent  time. 

Jesse  and  his  four  companions  joined  the  crowd  about 
the  austere  preacher.  Instinctively  the  people  made  way 
for  them  until  they  stood  almost  in  the  shadow  of  the 
gaunt  figure  they  had  come  to  see.  The  long  sermon  was 
now  near  its  end ;  and  gathering  up  the  forces  of  his  spirit, 
the  mighty  speaker  hurled  these  words  at  the  listening 
multitude: 

"  I  say  to  you,  repent,  and  again,  repent.  And  if  you 
ask  me  of  what  sin,  I  say,  repent  the  very  breath  of  your 
self-seeking  lives.  Think  you  the  world  was  made  that 
you  might  hoard  the  fat  of  it,  serving  your  body  as  a  slave 

177 


178          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

its  master?  I  tell  you  no.  The  hour  is  coming  when 
all  things  shall  be  changed;  the  reign  of  the  Spirit  is  even 
now  at  hand.  I  am  the  messenger  of  the  new  time.  I 
beat  upon  the  doors  which  you  have  locked  against  the 
coming  of  the  morning;  I  beat  your  doors  and  cry,  The 
sun  is  risen,  come  you  forth  and  see.  One  will  appear  who 
shall  bring  all  your  labours  for  yourselves  to  nothing.  I 
but  prepare  the  road  which  he  will  travel,  and  woe  to  him 
that  shall  seek  to  obstruct  the  way. 

"Yes,  the  sun  is  risen;  its  light  shall  dispel  the  dark- 
ness. In  the  new  day  that  is  coming  all  things  will  be 
changed.  They  who  now  sit  in  high  places  shall  take 
lower  seats;  they  who  have  no  place  whereon  to  sit  shall 
rest  on  cushions  taken  from  the  others.  They  who  now 
walk  in  crooked  ways  will  find  in  the  new  day  that  those 
ways  lead  no-whither,  and  the  rough  path  which  now  tears 
the  feet  of  millions  will  be  made  smooth  as  the  walks  of  a 
public  garden.  All  men  will  share  in  the  salvation  of  the 
world. 

"  Now  in  the  morning  of  that  time  I  say,  Let  him  who 
has  share  with  him  who  has  not,  and  let  no  man  eat  the 
meat  of  two  while  one  goes  hungry.  For  there  comes  an 
hour  of  wrath,  before  the  day  is  established,  and  he  is  wise 
who  flees  before  it. 

"  I  am  the  messenger  that  goes  before  the  sun,  but  I 
am  not  the  light-bearer.  There  comes  one  after  me  who 
is  before  me  in  all  things,  whose  feet  I  am  not  worthy  to 
touch.  I  baptise  you  in  the  river  of  repentance;  he  will 
baptise  you  in  the  ocean  of  the  Spirit  and  in  the  fire  of 
faith. 

"  Make  ready  for  him,  purging  yourselves  of  iniquity 
and  selfishness,  that  his  words  may  find  your  hearts  a  clean 
and  open  dwelling.  Long  have  I  waited  for  the  sun  to 
rise;  long  have  I  walked  in  solitude  and  darkness,  watch- 
ing for  the  light  that  did  not  come. 

"The  sun  is  risen.  Turn  now  your  faces  toward  the 
East." 

When  the  prophet  ceased  speaking,  many  crowded 
round  him  asking  to  be  baptised.  It  was  his  custom,  after 
the  midday  sermon,  to  lead  his  flock  to  the  adjacent  river 
and  there  immerse  all  those  who  professed  repentance  of 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          179 

their  sins.  If  any  lacked  the  necessary  courage  to  descend 
with  him  into  the  water,  fully  clothed,  trusting  their  health 
and  safety  to  the  spiritual  flame  within  them,  they  were 
told  to  go  away  and  return  when  they  should  have  over- 
come their  hesitation.  But  among  those  who  sought  him 
in  sincerity,  few  were  without  the  necessary  fortitude  to 
follow  him  into  the  water;  and  the  sight  of  men  and 
women  in  dripping  garments,  walking  homeward  in  the 
early  afternoon  through  the  streets  of  the  little  northern 
city,  had  become  so  familiar  as  to  attract  no  more  than  a 
passing  notice. 

Since  early  spring  the  Hermit  had  been  preaching  and 
baptising  in  that  region.  In  the  summer  of  the  year  be- 
fore he  had  begun  the  sounding  of  his  call  to  repentance, 
preaching  usually  in  the  open  country  near  one  or  another 
of  the  villages  on  the  border  of  the  river,  and  a  few  cour- 
ageous ones  had  followed  him  from  the  first;  but  during 
the  last  month  he  had  not  left  the  neighbourhood  of  Bur- 
lington, and  his  exhortation  had  assumed  an  ardour  that 
attracted  crowds  from  all  the  towns  and  villages  round- 
about. His  fame  spread  even  to  New  York  and  Boston, 
and  curious  strangers  from  those  distant  places  came  to  the 
little  city  on  the  shore  of  Lake  Champlain  to  see  and 
hear  the  extraordinary  man  who  claimed  to  be  the  fore- 
runner of  some  great  being  who  should  revolutionise  the 
world. 

The  more  conservative  and  wealthy  classes  declared  him 
a  madman;  bespectacled  physicians  came  out  to  hear  him 
preach,  that  they  might  find  a  learned  name  for  the  malady 
of  enthusiasm  which  possessed  him;  but  to  the  unlearned 
and  the  simple-hearted  he  seemed  a  veritable  prophet,  and 
the  common  people  listened  to  his  fierce  arraignments  of 
all  existing  things  with  mingled  feelings  of  terror,  hope, 
self-accusation  and  amazement. 

By  his  strange  words  and  his  stranger  self,  by  the  con- 
tagion of  his  exaltation,  he  had  created  an  atmosphere  of 
expectancy,  a  spiritual  breathlessness,  that  justified  his 
ever-repeated  assertion  that  he  was  the  forerunner  and  mes- 
senger of  some  great  thing  to  come.  The  mental  and 
spiritual  threshings  of  this  dweller  in  the  wilderness  had 
revealed  grains  of  faith  in  the  unseen  power  which  he 


i8o          THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

proclaimed.  Scattered  all  over  the  small  State  and  even 
beyond  its  borders  were  men  and  women  who  had  been 
baptised  by  the  Hermit  or  had  listened  to  his  fiery  words. 
The  tireless  messenger  had  done  his  work,  had  earned  the 
rest  which  soon  was  to  be  his. 

Jesse  and  his  four  companions  joined  the  people  who  fol- 
lowed John  the  Hermit  to  the  river  where  he  daily  bap- 
tised. They  stood  quietly  on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd, 
all  save  Andrew,  who  had  gone  forward  to  greet  his  for- 
mer teacher.  They  saw  one  person  after  another  go  down 
with  John  into  the  water;  they  saw  one  after  another  come 
up  out  of  the  water  with  a  strange  new  light  in  their 
faces.  When  there  were  no  more  left  who  sought  to  be 
baptised,  then  Jesse  said: 

"  It  is  our  turn  now ;  but  I  wish  to  be  the  last  of  those 
who  receive  baptism  on  this  day.  Go  down,  before  me." 

The  first  to  descend  was  Peter,  obedient  to  a  look  from 
Jesse.  Without  a  backward  glance  or  a  word,  he  went 
down  into  the  water;  when  he  came  up,  his  rugged  face 
seemed  to  be  lighted  from  within,  and  his  eyes  sought 
Jesse's  with  a  look  of  startled,  half-bewildered  reverence. 

Then  Judson  went  down  to  the  prophet  in  the  river, 
and  they  who  watched  saw  that  his  face  was  distorted  as 
with  pain.  Some  words  passed  between  him  and  the 
strange  being  who  baptised,  words  that  were  not  audible 
to  the  little  group  above;  then  he,  too,  disappeared  beneath 
the  surface  of  the  water,  to  rise  a  moment  later  and  join 
his  waiting  friends.  He  did  not  look  at  them,  but  kept 
his  eyes  upon  the  ground. 

Then  the  boy  whom  Jesse  loved,  the  irresistible,  devoted 
John,  after  a  look  of  deep  affection  at  his  teacher  and  a 
touch  of  his  small  hand  upon  his  arm,  went  also  down; 
when  he  came  up,  the  drops  of  river-water  on  his  face 
were  mingled  with  the  tears  of  emotion  which  welled  from 
his  sincere  heart.  His  eyes  were  eloquent  of  the  desire  to 
lay  the  burden  of  his  feeling  on  the  great  sympathetic  heart 
which  called  it  forth;  but  he  stood  shyly  a  little  aside,  his 
delicate  reverence  fearing  to  intrude  upon  the  moment  of 
preparation,  the  spiritual  lonely  place,  in  which  his  teacher 
was  awaiting  his  own  descent  to  the  baptism.  But  would  he 
go?  Would  he,  whom  the  Hermit  himself  was  waiting 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          181 

for,  accept  baptism  from  the  Hermit?  Would  it  not  be 
the  other  way,  and  Jesse  baptise  John  ?  The  hurried  mental 
questions  of  the  boy  were  answered  the  moment  they  arose. 

Jesse  was  descending  to  the  baptism,  when  the  Hermit 
came  up  out  of  the  water  and  stood  beside  him  on  the  edge 
of  the  river. 

"  It  is  given  me  to  know  that  I  am  not  fit  to  baptise 
you,"  he  said,  in  a  gentler  voice  than  anyone  had  ever 
heard  from  his  stern  lips.  Then,  to  the  others: 

"  This  is  he  of  whom  I  have  long  spoken,  he  who  should 
come  after  me,  the  one  greater  than  I.  When  he  would 
come  I  have  not  known;  but  I  have  known  that  he 
would  manifest  himself  to  me  when  I  had  blazed  a  path 
for  him.  To  that  end  I  have  walked  alone  in  the  forest; 
to  that  end  I  have  preached  repentance  to  all  men,  and  have 
baptised  as  many  as  were  ready.  It  is  not  fitting  that  I 
should  baptise  him." 

But  Jesse  said,  "  It  is  my  wish." 

So  John  permitted  him  to  take  the  baptism.  The  four 
men  on  the  river  bank,  bewildered  by  the  forces  moving 
round  them,  beheld  the  two  below  in  the  water  as  through 
a  mist.  It  seemed  to  them  that  Jesse  stood  in  the  attitude 
of  prayer;  then  he  passed  from  sight,  to  reappear  a  moment 
later  upon  the  bank  with  John.  They  were  startled  from 
their  abstraction  by  the  voice  of  the  Hermit,  speaking  to 
them: 

"As  he  came  up  out  of  the  water,  I  saw  the  Spirit 
upon  him,  and  I  heard  a  voice  which  verified  my  word  that 
this  is  he." 

They  gazed  at  Jesse,  seeing  him  in  a  new  and  clearer 
light.  For  many  days  now,  as  they  told  themselves,  they 
had  been  privileged  to  walk  with  this  wonderful  man,  and 
had  not  realised  until  this  hour  how  great  he  was.  They 
were  overcome  with  humility.  The  love  which  they  had 
given  him  before  seemed  so  pale  beside  the  love  which  they 
would  give  him  henceforth,  if  only  he  would  continue  to 
be  with  them,  to  let  them  follow  him.  His  new  status 
seemed  to  put  him  far  away  from  them  at  the  same  moment 
when  it  drew  them  nearer  to  him. 

Jesse,  as  if  divining  their  thought,  came  and  laid  his 
hand  lovingly  on  the  shoulder  of  each,  first  Peter  and  last 


i«2          THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

the  soft-eyed  John.  His  voice  was  thrilling  with  tender- 
ness. 

"  You  are  my  friends,"  he  said,  "  my  companions,  and 
you  will  be  with  me  to  the  end.  But  now  I  must  leave 
you  for  a  time,  how  long,  I  cannot  say;  when  I  return, 
be  ready  to  receive  me.  You  would  better  go  back  to 
Capronville,  and  there  await  my  call.  I  am  going  to  the 
mountains." 

"  We  will  be  ready  when  you  call  us,"  Peter  said. 

"  We  will  be  ready,"  echoed  the  others,  including  An- 
drew. 

Then,  with  a  parting  smile  for  all  of  them,  Jesse  turned 
to  the  Hermit  and  asked  for  direction  to  the  mountains. 
The  tall,  gaunt  man  went  with  him  a  short  distance  down 
the  road.  At  the  parting  of  the  ways  the  two  touched 
hands  and  separated,  Jesse  going  to  the  east,  the  Hermit 
going  back  to  his  own  disciples. 


CHAPTER    XXX 

JESSE  found  his  way  into  the  wilderness — the  mountains 
lying  east  of  Burlington.  In  'his  desire  for  solitude  he 
avoided  the  noisy  railway-train  that  would  have  taken 
him  some  distance  on  the  journey,  preferring  to  walk  alone 
along  the  green  country  roads.  He  carried  nothing  save 
a  change  of  linen  and  a  woollen  coat  to  protect  him  from 
the  dampness  of  the  night.  The  way  was  not  long; 
twenty  miles  or  so  would  bring  him  to  the  very  heart 
of  the  wilderness.  He  went  slowly,  for  he  did  not  seek 
weariness,  only  solitude;  and  he  paused  to  rest  or  medi- 
tate whenever  the  Spirit  prompted  him.  That  night  he 
slept  under  the  open  sky,  and  the  great  mountain  only  a 
few  miles  away  seemed  to  send  down  to  him  refreshing 
draughts  of  its  own  purity  and  peace. 

Oh,  that  first  night  under  the  stars,  with  the  little  sickle 
moon  for  a  signal  of  change  in  the  west,  and  in  the 
east,  felt  but  unseen  in  the  darkness,  the  calm,  immovable 
mountain!  That  night  was  for  Jesse  a  pause  between  two 
eternities.  Strange  memories  came  to  him  of  things  he  had 
never  known  in  this  brief  life,  vague  memories  that  whis- 
pered at  the  door  of  his  consciousness  and  stole  away  again 
without  fully  revealing  what  they  had  come  to  say.  Where 
in  the  long  past,  the  unimaginable  past,  had  he  lain  under 
the  stars  on  such  a  night  as  this,  with  the  labours  of  a 
superhuman  mission  just  ahead  of  him?  Where  had  he 
heard  before  the  voice  of  the  Spirit  that  called  him  into 
the  wilderness?  It  seemed  that  he  had  known  it  all,  had 
lived  it  all. 

He  gazed  at  the  moon  in  the  west.  It  must  have  been 
walking  an  incalculable  time  in  the  path  around  the  earth, 
watching  and  listening;  the  book  of  its  memory  must  be 
written  full  of  secrets  beyond  telling.  The  Spirit  that 
was  himself  had  also  an  immortal  past  as  well  as  an  im- 
mortal future;  there  could  never  have  been  a  time  when 
he,  as  It,  was  not;  there  could  never  be  a  time  when  he,  as 

183 


1 84          THE   SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

It,  should  cease  to  be.  And  Oh,  those  multitudes  of  other 
men  who  were  one  with  him  in  the  Spirit! 

In  a  pool  beside  him  he  saw  the  moon  reflected.  In 
how  many  pools,  on  the  curve  of  the  world,  did  that  one 
moon  this  night  reflect  itself?  And  the  light  that  swam 
in  beauty  on  the  surface  of  this  little  sheet  of  water  was 
present  also  with  the  others — with  all  the  myriad  others. 
So  the  one  Spirit  shone  in  the  pools  that  were  human 
hearts,  innumerable,  near  and  far  away,  on  the  great  curve 
of  time.  The  secret  of  his  mission  stood  revealed,  in  the 
symbol  before  his  eyes. 

At  dawn  he  arose  from  a  brief  sleep  and  continued  his 
journey  up  the  mountain,  and  long  before  midday  he  was 
high  in  the  cool  green  solitude.  The  peace  of  the  night 
before  was  with  him  still;  he  was  enjoying  temporarily 
the  pause  of  equilibrium  before  his  battle  with  the  forces 
that  now  stood  balanced  on  opposite  sides  of  the  great 
wheel  of  life.  He  found  a  place,  in  the  curve  between  two 
hills,  which  seemed  to  be  nature's  parallel  of  his  own  in- 
terior state;  and  there  he  sat  motionless  for  hours,  going 
in  memory  over  the  stages  of  his  progress  since  the  will 
toward  life,  of  the  Spirit  that  was  himself,  had  encased 
him  in  this  form  of  matter  which  he  was  to  study  and 
subdue,  ever  reaching  toward  the  mystery  above,  ever  ques- 
tioning the  mystery  below. 

He  thought  of  his  intellectual  growth,  from  the  first 
formulation  of  speech  to  express  the  feeling  of  the  groping 
inner  self,  to  the  words  of  wisdom  which  that  enlightened 
inner  self  now  used  for  the  instruction  of  others.  He 
thought  of  the  plan  of  his  mission  and  his  steady  move- 
ment in  that  one  direction;  of  the  gradual  development  of 
his  powers,  from  the  first  startling  realisation  in  early 
youth  that  he  could  cure  pain  and  bring  strange  things  to 
pass  by  the  exercise  of  his  will.  He  meditated  on  the  lov- 
ing-kindness that  had  grown  with  the  years  until  it  made 
his  heart  almost  too  full  for  endurance — his  aspiration  to 
be  a  bond  or  mediator  between  the  unknown  Spirit  above 
and  the  groping  human  hearts  below;  meditated  on  the  dif- 
ference between  the  unselfish  and  immortal  love  and  the 
selfish  and  transitory  love  which  is  a  mere  broken  reflection 
of  its  pure  prototype.  He  considered  the  engine  of  spiritual 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          185 

power  that  had  made  him  the  conqueror  of  his  environ- 
ment, overcoming  all  obstacles  in  the  way  of  his  progress 
to  the  present  hour;  considered  the  ceaseless  labour  neces- 
sary to  preserve  great  works  from  destruction — the  con- 
tinued effort  that  should  hold  his  message  balanced,  as  in  a 
pair  of  scales,  between  the  ideal  and  the  real,  making  prac- 
tical for  human  uses  the  divine  wisdom  of  love  and  jus- 
tice. He  thought  of  the  prudence  that  he,  the  pilgrim  of 
eternity,  must  exercise  upon  the  perilous  path  which  he 
had  chosen:  prudence  of  action,  prudence  of  speech,  pru- 
dence of  silence.  His  lamp  must  be  kept  ever-burning,  his 
staff  must  be  ever  in  his  hand. 

In  this  period  of  balance  he  saw  life  as  a  stupendous 
paradox,  wherein  the  two  extremes,  ever  opposite  and  ever 
struggling,  constantly  change  places  with  each  other,  for 
the  reason  that  they  are  essentially  one.  The  paradox  had 
always  appealed  to  him,  but  now  he  saw  it  in  all  its  naked 
beauty.  He  felt  the  rush  of  extremes  toward  one  another, 
the  affinity  of  antipodes,  the  struggle  and  the  union.  The 
very  evils  that  he  fought  against  seemed  here  to  take  their 
rightful  place  on  the  revolving  wheel  of  necessity;  for 
without  evil,  how  should  we  measure  good?  Without  the 
knowledge  of  darkness,  who  would  desire  the  light?  With- 
out the  universe  of  matter,  how  would  the  Spirit  realise 
itself?  But  he  saw  that  this  was  only  true  from  the 
standpoint  of  the  universal;  from  the  standpoint  of  the 
human,  evil  must  be  fought,  darkness  must  be  overcome 
and  matter  sublimated,  for  that  is  the  work  of  the  Spirit 
which  man  is.  He  told  himself  that  only  he  who  acknowl- 
edges evil  can  transcend  it;  that  until  man  has  begun  to 
conquer  the  tendencies  that  draw  the  soul  down,  he  has 
not  acquired  the  impetus  of  positive  virtue  for  the  upward 
climb.  The  supremacy  of  will  is  ours  when  we  can  com- 
mand the  nature-powers  below  us,  for  the  one  that  com- 
mands is  above,  and  we  are  It.  When  we  reach  up  to 
our  greater  Self,  we  must  bring  something  else  at  least 
a  part  of  the  way  with  us.  But  the  things  which  we  com- 
mand and  lift  are  also  ourselves;  for  are  not  all  things 
one,  even  good  and  evil?  So  the  strongest  and  most  in- 
dependent ego  is  capable  of  the  tenderest  fraternity. 

He  saw,   as  through  a  telescope,  'the  far-reaching  effect 


1 86         THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

of  every  thought  and  action ;  saw,  as  through  a  microscope, 
the  infinitesimal  cause  of  great  events.  He  realised  dura- 
tion, the  eternal  action  in  time,  as  a  revolving  wheel, 
without  beginning  or  end;  and  days,  years,  centuries,  ages, 
men  and  women,  love  and  hate,  pleasure  and  pain,  life  and 
death,  were  as  particles  of  dust  upon  the  whirling  spokes  of 
it.  Its  motion  was  according  to  the  Great  Law  that  es- 
tablishes and  is  itself  the  necessary  course  of  things. 

He  came  to  see  this  Law  as  inherent  in  nature  and  in 
the  Spirit — a  certainty  which  may  be  used  at  will  by  him 
who  aspires;  came  to  see  the  knowledge  of  this  Law  as 
the  forefinger  of  God,  pointing  the  way  to  power  un- 
dreamed of  by  the  groping  souls  of  men. 

All  day  Jesse  sat  in  the  curve  between  the  two  hills,  all 
day  he  meditated;  and  when  the  night  came  down  he  fell 
asleep  like  a  tired  child  in  the  lap  of  Nature,  his  mother. 
So  passed  the  first  day  of  his  solitary  initiation  in  the  wil- 
derness. He  had  many  stages  to  go  through,  some  brief 
like  this  first  one  of  balance  and  assent  to  all  existing 
things,  some  longer  and  more  difficult,  some  full  of  bitter 
travail.  He  fell  asleep,  knowing  that  the  morrow  would 
bring  sterner  labours  to  the  spirit. 

He  awoke  the  next  morning  with  a  fuller  consciousness 
of  freedom  than  he  had  ever  before  known — of  freedom 
and  strength;  nevertheless,  he  knew  them  to  be  still  un- 
tested, for  the  acid  of  experience  had  not  touched  them.  In 
that  hour  of  dawn  freshness,  he  felt  that  he  could  grasp  the 
upper  and  lower  jaws  of  the  mighty  lion  of  life,  forcing  them 
apart  or  pressing  them  together  according  to  his  will.  In 
his  hand  lay  the  destiny  not  only  of  himself  but  of  others, 
and  the  vitality  of  innumerable  lives  seemed  to  be  concen- 
trated in  him.  He  realised  himself  as  a  repository  of  the 
powers  of  Divinity,  his  personality  as  a  transitory  receptacle 
of  the  eternal  seed — a  mould  wherein  the  fluid  of  the  Spirit 
had  been  poured,  to  be  held  by  him  as  a  sacred  trust,  and 
finally  to  be  restored  to  the  original  Source,  richer  for  all 
the  varied  experiences  of  the  form  which  had  held  it. 

Every  breath  he  drew  seemed  charged  with  all  the  pow- 
ers of  the  universal  life.  It  came  to  him  suddenly  that 
this  breath  of  his,  this  breath  of  every  being,  was  corre- 


THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL          187 

spondent  to  the  forces  of  attraction  and  repulsion  inherent 
in  all  things.  Why  could  not  one  who  understood  the  law 
of  its  control  draw  to  himself  any  object  of  desire,  drive 
from  himself  all  things  he  did  not  want,  as  man  draws 
into  himself  the  oxygen  necessary  to  sustain  life,  and  drives 
from  himself  the  devitalised  residue  of  air  for  which  he 
has  no  use? 

At  that  moment,  as  if  in  answer  to  his  question,  one  of 
the  timid  wild  deer  that  walk  those  mountains  came  to 
the  edge  of  the  open  space  wherein  he  sat;  and  though  its 
furtive  eyes  perceived  him,  he  held  those  eyes  with  his 
own.  Then  gradually  he  drew  the  shy  creature  toward 
him  by  the  power  of  attraction  which  he  had  just  dis- 
covered. Holding  it  still  with  his  eyes,  he  put  out  his 
hand  and  pulled  the  leaves  from  a  shrub,  offering  the 
tempting  greenness  to  the  deer,  which  came  softly,  unre- 
sistingly forward  and  nibbled  the  leaves  from  his  hand. 
Then,  turning,  it  bounded  back  to  its  mate,  which  had  ap- 
peared at  the  edge  of  the  clearing  as  if  calling  to  it  to 
return  to  the  safety  of  the  deeper  forest. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  clearing  appeared  a  great 
bear,  one  of  the  species  common  in  that  section,  the  terror 
of  the  people  from  the  plains  below  who  occasionally  go 
up  the  mountain  to  gather  the  wild  berries  that  grow  there 
in  profusion.  The  dangerous  animal  looked  at  the  man 
before  him  with  a  growing  interest;  but  Jesse,  in  the  fear- 
lessness of  that  hour  of  strength,  would  not  have  trembled 
before  a  lion  from  the  jungles  of  lower  Asia.  He  calmly 
regarded  the  bear,  and  reversing  the  power  which  he  had 
used  to  attract  the  deer,  he  drove  the  monster  from  his 
presence,  never  to  return. 

A  few  moments  later  he  saw  a  rattlesnake  come 'glid- 
ing into  the  circle  wherein  he  sat ;  it  raised  its  flat  head  and 
looked  at  him  with  cold,  unpleasant  eyes.  Conquering  an 
instinctive  repugnance  and  remembering  the  essential  fra- 
ternity of  all  living  things,  he  endeavoured  to  draw  the 
serpent  toward  him  as  he  had  drawn  the  harmless  deer, 
making  it  also  harmless  by  his  sympathy.  But  quickly  the 
rattler  turned  and  darted  away  through  the  grass. 

Jesse  sat  quietly  and  considered  the  matter.  Why,  when 
he  could  attract  the  timid  deer,  could  he  not  attract  the 


1 88          THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL 

far  less  timid  serpent?  And  the  answer  came:  The  ten- 
dency of  his  inherited  human  repulsion  to  the  reptilian 
form  of  life,  meeting  the  action  of  his  will,  had  added  to 
the  inevitable  reaction  its  own  inertia.  He  solved  many 
problems  based  on  this  principle  in  its  relation  to  human 
life,  finding  the  answer  to  questions  which  had  puzzled  him 
for  years. 

Then,  having  studied  the  will  to  attraction  and  repul- 
sion, and  having  seen  how  it  affected  both  animal  and  hu- 
man social  life,  he  pondered  its  application  to  inorganic 
matter.  These  thoughts  were  in  his  mind  as  he  com- 
posed himself  to  sleep  that  night. 

Rising  at  dawn,  he  bathed  in  the  mountain  river,  then 
looked  about  him  for  the  means  of  testing  an  idea  which 
had  flashed  through  his  mind  on  waking.  High  on  the 
bank  of  the  stream  he  saw  a  large  boulder.  How  many 
centuries  had  it  stood  there,  waiting  in  silence  the  word 
of  permission  to  lave  its  hot  face  in  the  waters  below? 
Jesse  climbed  the  bank  and  stood  behind  the  rock.  Be- 
lieving firmly  that  he  who  could  change  the  inclination 
of  the  animal,  of  conscious  matter,  could  change  the 
position  of  this  unconscious  matter,  he  threw  the  full  force 
of  his  body,  his  will,  his  breath  and  his  word,  against  the 
boulder.  With  a  grating  sound  which  seemed  the  hoarse 
laughter  of  the  elemental  powers  of  Nature,  it  plunged  for- 
ward and  down  into  the  river,  throwing  back  to  him  as  if 
in  gratitude  a  shower  of  refreshing  spray. 


CHAPTER    XXXI 

AFTER  the  moving  of  the  rock  there  came  to  Jesse  an 
accession  of  the  consciousness  of  power;  he  felt  able  to  do 
anything,  even  the  seemingly  impossible. 

During  the  afternoon  of  that  day  he  picked  up  a  small 
white  stone  and  sat  holding  it  in  his  hand  for  a  long  time. 
An  idea — a  possibility — had  taken  possession  of  his  imagi- 
nation. Could  he  do  the  thing  which  he  had  in  mind  ?  He 
gazed  at  the  stone,  concentrating  his  thought  upon  the 
task  he  purposed  to  accomplish.  Then  he  raised  it  to  his 
lips,  and  sounded  over  it  a  long  musical  syllable  that  rang 
and  reverberated  among  the  trees  of  the  silent  mountain. 
He  looked  again  at  the  stone:  it  had  turned  a  rich  violet 
colour.  So  it  was  true!  Superhuman  powers  were  given 
to  man,  to  be  commanded  under  certain  supernormal  con- 
ditions. 

Knowing  well  that  every  attainment  has  its  peculiar 
price,  he  asked  himself  what  he  would  have  to  pay  for  this 
power  over  Nature.  Even  with  the  question  came  the 
answer:  only  by  the  complete  consecration  of  his  personality, 
and  his  rights  as  an  individual,  could  a  man  safely  claim 
and  exercise  such  powers.  When  he  stretched  out  his  hand 
to  enfold  that  stone  and  raise  its  nature,  he  had  to  transcend 
his  own  mere  human  nature.  On  the  cross  of  Nature  de- 
sire must  be  transformed,  that  the  spirit  may  be  lifted  up, 
and  draw  all  men  unto  it.  He  who  exposes  himself  to  the 
subtler  forces  of  Nature  is  safe  only  if  his  heart  be  pure  of 
any  taint  of  selfishness;  for  here  the  worldly  fruit  of  the 
individual's  past  and  present  must  be  consecrated  to  the 
spiritual  future  of  mankind.  Only  the  preserving  power 
of  universal  love  is  strong  enough  to  sustain  the  heart  of 
man  on  this  perilous  elevation. 

While  meditating  alone  upon  the  top  of  the  mountain, 
he  was  really  nearer  to  the  beings  in  the  valley  than  were 
those  other  beings  who  spoke  to  them  face  to  face  and  lay 

189 


igo          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

upon  their  hearts;  for  the  Self  he  felt  himself  to  be  was 
the  source  of  all  other  men  and  women.  Their  joys  and 
sorrows  were  his  joys  and  sorrows.  He  had  outgrown 
the  feeling  of  separateness  from  any  living  thing.  Even 
those  who  hated  him  were  included  in  the  understanding 
love  with  which  he  embraced  the  world;  for  he  had  solved 
the  mystery  of  enmity  and  the  greater  mystery  of  friend- 
ship. Because  he  could  regard  his  own  heart  coldly  as 
a  thing  apart,  he  was  able  to  regard  the  hearts  of  others 
ardently  as  being  one  with  himself.  The  fire  which  had 
purified  his  nature  from  the  dross  of  selfish  desire  had  ren- 
dered it  so  volatile  that  it  could  blend  with  the  nature  of 
:any  other  being,  independently  of  the  limitations  of  time 
and  space. 

Four  days  he  spent  in  ceaseless  communion  with  the 
lives  of  men  and  women  whom  he  knew:  his  mother,  his 
stolid  brethren,  Rose  Thomas,  his  New  York  friends,  his 
new  followers  in  Capronville,  his  boyhood's  comrade, 
Marty  White,  the  enigmatical  Mary  Magnus,  and  all  those 
other  persons,  slightly  known  before  but  now  known  in- 
timately, whom  he  had  met  in  his  brief  life  on  earth.  He 
found  the  secret  cause  of  all  their  strangest  actions;  he 
found  the  hidden  meanings  in  their  seemingly  careless 
words. 

From  an  impartial  distance,  he  studied  his  own  heart; 
and  the  events  of  his  life  from  the  beginning  were  brought 
into  the  vivid  light  of  his  analysis.  The  reasons  which 
he  saw  for  many  of  his  own  words  and  deeds  gave  him  a 
clue  to  the  motives  behind  the  words  and  deeds  of  others. 

Much  has  been  written  of  the  mystic  death,  but  few 
know  what  it  means;  few  know  that  shadow-country 
where  the  soul  walks  with  spectres  of  the  dead  and  the 
unborn — dead  dreams,  dead  men,  dead  selves,  unborn  be- 
ings, unborn  destinies,  unborn  desires.  It  has  been  said 
that  certain  men  have  talked  with  the  dead;  but  what  is  it 
to  talk  with  the  dead?  He  who  has  the  courage  to  com- 
mune with  his  own  dead  self  need  fear  no  spectre  of  the 
graveyard.  Most  men  will  say  that  they  commune  with 
their  dead  selves  when  they  think  about  the  past;  it  is  not 
so,  for  the  selves  they  think  of  are  not  dead,  but  throb- 


THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL          191 

bingly,  insistently  alive.  Not  until  personal  desire  is  mas- 
tered can  a  man  safely  walk  in  the  tombs  with  the  ghosts  of 
other  men. 

It  was  night  on  the  mountain,  a  dark  night;  neither 
star  nor  moon  was  visible.  Black  darkness  and  utter  si- 
lence, the  two  most  formidable  terrors  to  the  mind  of 
man,  held  dual  sway  over  the  solitary  waste.  Not  a  leaf 
stirred  on  the  trees.  Jesse  sat  with  his  chin  in  his  palms, 
peering  into  the  void.  His  days  of  uninterrupted  medita- 
tion and  fasting  had  sharpened  his  perceptions;  he  beheld 
the  unseen  and  listened  to  the  unspoken. 

Was  that  wavering  outline  in  the  darkness  the  form  of 
his  father?  Were  those  other  grey  shapes  against  the 
night  his  unknown  companions  in  the  mazes  of  the  dead? 
The  stillness  was  appalling.  Then  a  something — a  sound 
that  was  to  the  sense  of  hearing  as  the  brushing  of  an  in- 
sect's wing  might  be  to  the  sense  of  touch,  something  al- 
most too  slight  to  be  called  a  sound — came  to  his  ears 
with  meanings  as  of  words.  Strange  things  they  seemed 
to  utter,  terrible  things  that  made  his  heart  grow  cold  with 
horror  and  with  pity.  Were  the  dead  indeed  so  sad?  It 
could  not  be.  Then  how  explain  these  wailing  etheric 
wanderers?  But  wait!  Might  these  not  be  only  the  evil 
passions  of  the  beings  gone  before,  the  worldly  lusts,  the 
nameless  abominations,  which  the  free  spirits  had  left  be- 
hind in  the  lumber-room  of  the  earth's  atmosphere?  Surely 
that  melancholy  something  in  his  father's  shape  was  not  his 
father's  soul;  surely  the  secrets  he  had  heard  were  not  the 
litanies  of  those  who  have  left  the  earth  behind.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  hours  went  by  while  those  unrealising,  chang- 
ing shadows  passed  and  repassed  before  him  in  the  spaces 
between  the  visible  and  the  invisible — those  spectres  of 
passive  disintegration,  victims  of  the  inevitable  reflex  of 
active  creation.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  exhausting 
the  knowledge  of  all  misery — bereft  of  the  boon  of  tears. 

Then  other  visions  passed  before  him — awful,  unhuman 
presences,  the  shadows  of  semi-conscious  beings  who  never 
have  been  human,  spirits  of  the  woods  and  the  waters, 
spirits  of  the  air,  alien  and  some  of  them  unfriendly  to  hu- 
manity. But  having  transcended  his  mere  humanity,  he 
was  their  master;  their  most  malignant  impulse  could  not 


192          THE   SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

reach  him,  could  not  penetrate  the  atmosphere  of  purity 
that  guarded  this  instrument  of  the  world's  uplifting.  They 
came  and  went  at  his  bidding,  helpless  puppets  of  his  will, 
the  passive  leaves  of  the  great  book  of  Nature  which  he 
studied,  types  of  formation  and  fertility,  that  brought  him 
knowledge  of  how  beings  are  evolved  in  unlimited  space. 
These  later  shadows  were,  compared  with  the  spectres  of 
the  earlier  night,  as  integration  is  to  disintegration,  as 
gestation  to  decomposition.  Where  before  he  had  faced 
illusions  he  now  faced  realities, — only  partially  evolved, 
but  none  the  less  realities. 

All  the  night  long,  the  longest  night  he  ever  knew, 
Jesse's  mind  was  tried  and  tested  by  his  spirit,  with  tests 
and  trials  that  endow  the  victor  with  the  strength  for  fur- 
ther progress.  Had  he  failed?  .  .  .  But  how  could 
he  fail?  At  dawn  sleep  came  with  its  rewarding  balm, 
and  held  him  for  as  many  hours  as  he  had  wandered  with 
the  shadows. 

He  was  awakened  by  drops  of  rain  falling  on  his  face, 
and  sought  shelter  in  a  small  open  cave  he  had  discovered 
in  the  mountainside.  For  three  days  the  rain  fell  steadily, 
and  for  three  days  he  remained  in  the  cave,  braving  the 
storm  occasionally  for  refreshment  of  wild  berries  and 
spring-water.  He  became  again  aware  of  his  corporeal  ex- 
istence, which  he  had  forgotten.  The  human  self  he  had 
left  behind  had  now  risen  from  the  dead,  transformed  into 
a  powerful  individuality.  As  he  gazed  out  of  his  cave  at 
the  falling  rain,  the  realisation  came  to  him  that  he  had 
exchanged  the  smaller  self  for  the  larger  one,  had  given 
up  desires  in  exchange  for  power;  that  for  every  personal 
right  which  he  had  consecrated  he  now  possessed  a  god- 
like privilege. 

Then  came  a  thought  which  made  him  leap  to  his  feet 
and  rush  out  into  the  storm:  With  the  power  he  already 
controlled,  he  could  now  go  down  this  mountain  and  de- 
mand from  the  world  any  gift  which  the  world  could  un- 
derstand, and  the  world  would  be  obliged  to  yield  it  to 
him.  But  stay.  .  .  .  The  boons  he  hoped  for  were 
those  which  the  world  could  neither  understand  nor  give. 
He  walked  slowly  back  to  his  cave  and  to  his  meditations. 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          193 

That  idea  was  not  to  return  to  him  until  it  should  come 
in  a  more  insidious  and  more  dangerous  guise. 

Feelings  which  had  slumbered,  which  he  had  supposed 
to  be  left  behind  for  ever,  also  returned  to  him  now  in 
higher  forms:  the  love  of  family  and  friends,  hope  of  suc- 
cess for  his  great  mission  because  it  was  his  own  as  well  as 
because  of  its  greatness.  Here  the  child  and  the  master, 
the  human  and  the  divine,  were  mixed  together  as  wine 
and  water,  and  no  drop  was  wasted.  After  his  recent  so- 
journ in  the  etheric  realms,  he  was  forced  by  reaction  to 
return  to  the  material  world;  only  his  present  conscious- 
ness of  individual  and  corporeal  life  could  have  restored 
the  balance  and  enabled  him  to  continue  in  the  body.  But 
he  had  brought  back  with  him  from  that  aerial  journey 
the  faculty  for  living  in  either  world  at  will. 

Who  that  has  dwelt  long  with  any  person  of  highly  de- 
veloped soul  but  has  marked  the  seeming  incongruities  and 
contradictions,  growing  out  of  this  familiarity  with  the 
two  extremes  of  consciousness?  In  the  average  human 
being  some  one  quality  predominates;  the  perfect  equilib- 
rium of  those  natures  which  have  passed  a  certain  stage 
of  mystic  evolution  makes  them  often  appear  unbalanced, 
by  reason  of  the  very  perfection  of  their  mental  and  spirit- 
ual balance.  They  illustrate  in  their  own  beings  the  very 
acme  of  antithesis,  the  parallelism  of  opposites. 

While  Jesse  was  aware  of  the  powerful  instrument  for 
his  high  purposes  which  he  had  in  the  beautiful  human 
self  he  had  mastered,  yet  he  had  no  personal  pride  in  its 
beauty,  nor  any  spiritual  pride  in  the  achievement  of  its 
mastery.  He  would  have  relinquished  both  without  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation,  could  he  have  thereby  furthered  in  the 
least  degree  the  development  of  the  souls  of  men.  His  body 
was  merely  a  part  of  that  nature  which  he  could  com- 
mand to  serve  the  Spirit. 

He  sat  inside  the  cave,  watching  and  listening  to  the 
rain.  Water  .  .  .  what  was  its  meaning?  Was  there 
water  in  the  unimaginable  spaces  between  the  stars?  and 
were  "  the  waters  above  the  heavens  "  like  this  terrestrial 
water?  Or  was  there  not  another  and  more  tenuous 
moisture,  bearing  the  same  relation  to  the  interplanetary 
ether  as  water  bears  to  air?  And  had  not  the  other  ele- 


194          THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL 

ments  also  their  finer  prototypes?  Watching  the  currents 
of  the  wind-blown  rain,  he  learned  the  secret  of  the  flow 
of  other  currents — mysterious  and  almost  incomprehensible 
— of  that  fluid  which  is  the  vehicle  of  souls. 

After  three  days  and  nights  of  rain  the  sun  rose  in  a 
cloudless  sky;  the  green  world  seemed  to  dimple  and  smile, 
all  fresh  from  its  cool  bath,  and  every  bird  was  exultingly 
telling  the  joy  of  its  heart.  Nature  herself  was  laugh- 
ing with  the  consciousness  of  her  own  power.  Who 
should  prevail  against  her,  with  the  smile  on  her  morning 
face?  "Am  I  not  fair?"  she  seemed  to  say.  "What 
need  has  man  of  anything  beyond  me  ?  " 

Jesse  drew  in  his  breath  with  keen  delight.  Surely 
Nature  was  beautiful,  a  pleasing  bride  for  the  Spirit.  But 
alas  for  those  who  exalted  the  bride  above  the  bridegroom! 
Earth  smiled  in  his  face,  rustling  her  soft  green  garments. 
"  Now  put  away  your  solemn  meditations  for  a  day,"  she 
seemed  to  whisper,  "  and  enjoy  with  me  the  fragrance  of 
my  garden.  Am  I  not  lovelier  than  cold-eyed  philosophy?" 

He  gathered  a  handful  of  wild  flowers,  breathing  their 
perfume  with  eyes  half-closed.  The  whole  bright  day  he 
spent  in  contemplating  the  beauty  of  the  earth — as  the  mir- 
ror upon  whose  gleaming  surface  the  face  of  God  was  re- 
flected. He  watched  the  lights  and  shadows  flickering 
over  the  trees  and  the  grass;  he  gazed  through  the  illimit- 
able blue  of  the  summer  sky;  he  breathed  the  fragrance  of 
the  flowers;  he  listened  to  the  song  of  the  birds  and  the 
whispering  of  the  river. 

But  the  next  day  the  world  seemed  not  so  fresh,  seemed 
not  so  beautiful;  though  the  sun  still  shone,  the  birds  still 
sang.  He  had  learned  long  before  that  no  experience  is 
ever  exactly  repeated:  this  day  would  bring  him  something 
different,  perhaps  another  aspect  of  the  many-sided  mother 
of  mankind,  perhaps  the  limitations  of  her  sphere — the 
narrow  circumference  surrounding  all  the  human  children 
she  nourishes  at  her  breast. 

Surely  there  must  be  a  circle  which  no  man  could  pass, 
till  he  should  become  more  than  man — the  circle  of  earthly 
destiny.  Could  he  transcend  the  limits  in  which  the  in- 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          195 

carnate  soul  is  doomed  to  act?  His  very  human  nature, 
the  link  which  bound  him  to  his  kind  and  made  it  possible 
for  him  to  touch  them,  seemed  now  to  mock  at  him.  Was 
he  too  bold?  Could  man  perform  the  labours  he  had  set 
himself?  Somewhere  in  his  wide  reading  he  had  found  the 
phrase,  "  the  circle  of  necessity."  Was  this  not  what  it 
meant,  this  serpent-circle  of  fatality,  the  settled  bound  of 
the  soul's  daring  course.  Might  there  not  also  be  a  guard- 
ian Power  which  watched  upon  the  border  of  man's  legiti- 
mate domain,  hurling  him  back  with  fear  and  pain  should 
he  presume  to  arrogate  to  himself  the  powers  and  privileges 
of  superior  beings, — a  mysterious  guardian  of  limitation? 
Chained  to  the  planetary  footstool,  how  should  man's  will 
escape  the  iron  fetters?  Surely  the  spirit,  having  accepted 
the  limitations  of  matter,  must  abide  by  the  decision;  when- 
ever it  seeks  to  rise  above  the  earth,  must  remain  suspended, 
like  a  fluttering  bird,  between  the  co-ordinating  pinions  of 
good  and  evil. 

In  gloomy  meditation  on  these  problems  he  passed  an- 
other day.  He  who  ventures  to  lift  the  veil  of  Life  must 
dare  the  shadows  cast  by  the  veil's  awful  folds  upon,  the 
unknown  face. 

The  night  that  followed  was  dark  with  more  than  lunar 
darkness.  All  sources  of  light  seemed  hidden  by  the  earth; 
the  underworld  that  had  devoured  the  sun  and  moon 
seemed  also  to  have  made  a  giant's  feast  of  all  the  spiritual 
lights  that  had  shone  in  the  soul's  heaven.  The  faith 
which  had  wrought  miracles  was  now  sore  beset  by  the 
doubt  which  ever  seeks  to  work  destruction;  and  as  he 
lay  sleepless  under  the  heavy  sky,  the  dark  horns  of  the 
universal  monster  seemed  to  be  arched  over  him,  their 
menacing  points  buried  in  the  earth  on  either  side  of  his 
hard  natural  bed. 

At  sunrise  he  awoke  from  a  brief  sleep  troubled  by  vague, 
evil  dreams;  through  them  a  malign  face  leered  at  him,  a 
never-to-be-forgotten  face  with  slanting  eyes  and  false, 
uncertain  glance.  So  vivid  was  the  vision  of  this  entity 
through  the  formless  shadows  of  his  dream,  that  it  seemed 
to  stand  before  him  even  in  the  broad  sunlight  for  a  mo- 
ment after  he  opened  his  eyes.  In  its  hand  it  held  a 


196          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

lighted  torch;  dark  batlike  wings  extended  from  its  shoul- 
ders, and  its  vesture  was  wrought  with  serpents  and  strange 
symbols. 

Jesse  leaped  to  his  feet  and  shook  himself,  he  ran  down 
the  hill  and  bathed  in  the  cold  mountain  river;  but  still 
the  leer  on  that  false,  satanic  face  remained  with  him,  still 
at  the  back  of  his  consciousness  remained  the  restless  doubts 
suggested  by  its  glance.  What  dark  force  of  Nature  had 
his  brain  visualised?  Or  was  it,  really,  an  independent 
entity,  having  its  home  in  the  secret  realm  beyond  the  in- 
trusion of  man's  normal  senses?  Could  it  be  the  fearful 
guardian  of  the  spiritual  place  of  beauty  and  high  power? 
Whatever  it  might  be,  the  Presence  remained  with  him — 
to  warn,  to  mock,  to  torture  with  cold  doubts. 

What  was  the  will  of  man  that  it  should  set  itself  to 
superhuman  labours?  the  Presence  seemed  to  whisper.  To 
what  result  were  tending  all  his  fiery  hopes  of  world  re- 
generation? Ingratitude,  derision,  martrydom, — these 
were  the  doubtful  prizes  of  the  struggle.  What  if  his 
conquest  should  take  another  form?  With  his  indisputable 
powers  he  might  accomplish  anything  he  chose,  should  he 
confine  himself  to  ways  the  world  could  understand.  He 
at  whose  word  the  very  stones  changed  colour,  at  whose 
will  the  wild  deer  came  and  the  menacing  bear  departed, 
could  command  the  obedience  of  fortune,  command  bread 
for  the  mouth  and  beauty  for  the  eye. 

He  realised  that  he  was  hungry.  Wild  berries  and 
spring-water  might  sustain  life  for  a  long  time,  but  the 
material  appetites  demand  a  more  substantial  fare. 

"  You  who  could  change  the  colour  of  the  stone,"  the 
haunting  Presence  whispered,  "  command  these  other 
stones  at  your  feet  to  be  made  bread,  that  you  may  not 
suffer  from  hunger." 

Surely  a  not  illogical  suggestion;  and  whatever  Jesse's 
powers  might  be,  his  hunger  at  least  was  real. 

"  You  have  declared  that  you  are  God,"  the  Presence 
again  whispered,  "  have  declared  that  God  is  the  Power 
and  that  you  are  the  expression  of  the  Power.  The  time 
is  come  to  prove  your  daring  faith.  Of  what  use  or 
dignity  are  superhuman  powers  if  they  may  not  be  put  to 
human  uses?  Now  command  the  stones  to  be  made  bread. 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          197 

What,  is  your  faith  so  weak?  You  fear  they  will  not 
obey  you?"  And  a  mocking  laugh  sounded  against  his 
inner  ear. 

"  My  failure  to  make  bread  of  stones,"  he  said  aloud, 
as  if  one  listened  to  him,  "  would  affect  only  myself ;  but 
my  failure  to  depend  upon  the  Spirit  would  affect  the 
work  of  the  Spirit  that  dwells  in  me." 

Again  he  made  his  meal  of  wild  berries  and  quenched 
his  thirst  at  the  cool  spring. 

To  escape  the  malign  Presence  he  climbed  to  the  top  of 
the  mountain,  and  stood  on  the  edge  of  a  cliff  which  fell 
sheer  to  a  rocky  bed  below.  But  the  morning  visitor  was 
before  him,  still  whispering  temptations  as  from  the  depths 
of  his  own  brain.  On  the  rocks  below  were  the  whiten- 
ing bones  of  some  animal.  A  fall  from  this  height  would 
mean  certain  death;  but  if  he  were  really  chosen  by  the 
Spirit  for  the  performance  of  great  works,  would  not 
the  Spirit  bear  him  up?  Why  should  his  body  not  pass 
unharmed  through  the  air,  even  as  his  more  subtle  form 
of  thought?  Were  they  not  both  equally  the  vehicles  of 
consciousness? 

"  The  Spirit  cannot  be  destroyed,"  the  Presence  again 
whispered.  "  If  you  are  indeed  the  Spirit,  cast  yourself 
down  and  prove  your  unity  with  God.  To  him  who 
shall  prevail  against  the  force  of  gravitation  and  the  sharp- 
ness of  those  rocks,  all  things  will  be  possible — even  the 
regeneration  of  mankind." 

"  The  laws  of  Nature  are  the  commands  of  God,"  Jesse 
said,  again  aloud  as  if  one  listened.  "  He  who  destroys 
the  body  is  a  traitor  to  the  Spirit." 

He  sat  down  upon  the  cliff  and  gazed  out  across  the 
rolling  hills  and  valleys,  to  the  far  blue  line  of  another 
chain  of  mountains  in  the  west.  O  wide  and  myriad- 
peopled  world!  O  world  of  beauty  and  of  strange,  far 
cities,  among  whose  rulers  he  might  take  his  place  by 
virtue  of  inherent  strength — if  he  but  chose!  And  might 
not  such  choice  be  wise  and  righteous?  Among  the  cold, 
self-seeking  sovereigns  of  the  earth,  what  influence  for 
good  might  he  not  wield  who  should  make  himself  a  ruler 
for  love's  sake!  The  Presence  again  whispered  in  his 
inner  ear: 


ig8          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"  Is  it  then  for  nothing  that  you  worship  God?  Can 
the  Spirit  act  without  a  medium,  the  soul  without  a 
body?  The  ruler  of  a  nation  has  power  undreamed  of  by 
the  plodding  herd.  Then  make  the  State  the  body,  the 
medium  of  the  Spirit;  and  though  to  such  an  end  one 
walks  inevitably  by  devious  ways,  remember  that  in  the 
physical  mechanism  that  serves  the  soul  are  many  gross 
and  evil-smelling  substances.  Seize  worldly  power,  then 
use  it  for  whatever  end  seems  best.  What  knows  the  sol- 
dier who  fights  for  the  king  of  the  king's  secret  design? 
Seize  worldly  power!  It  may  be  given  you  to  serve  the 
Spirit  by  material  means.  Seize  worldly  power — command 
all  men  to  be  the  servants  of  your  will." 

Then  Jesse  faced  the  evil  Presence.  He  gazed  into  its 
eyes  with  stern,  unshaken  heart. 

"  Demon  of  Doubt,"  he  cried,  "  you,  too,  have  served 
the  Spirit  that  I  serve — served  it  by  tempting  and  testing 
the  steel  of  my  soul's  loyalty.  Now  get  you  back  to  your 
own  realm,  and  nevermore  come  near  me.  I  will  fight 
the  battle  of  the  Spirit  with  spiritual  weapons." 

There  came  to  him,  even  with  the  words,  such  peace 
and  consciousness  of  strength  as  he  had  never  known. 
Now  might  the  powers  of  darkness  storm  and  rage  about 
the  citadel  of  his  soul;  they  could  not  reach  the  quiet  place 
wherein  he  dwelt  secure. 


BLACK  storm-clouds  were  gathering  over  the  moun- 
tain; from  horizon  to  horizon  they  threatened  one  an- 
other, and  the  low  voice  of  thunder  reverberated  among 
the  hills.  The  air  was  tense  with  expectation  of  coming 
danger;  the  wind  whispered  shrilly  through  the  tree-tops 
that  shuddered  at  its  message;  the  river  seemed  to  rush 
faster,  as  if  hurrying  toward  lower  and  safer  levels.  Now 
and  then  a  bird  cried  out,  in  warning  to  its  mate. 

Jesse  stood  beneath  a  giant  pine-tree,  already  scarred 
from  head  to  foot  in  some  past  encounter  with  celestial 
wrath.  He  was  far  below  the  cave  where  he  had  housed 
himself  in  the  long  rain  many  days  before. 

The  voice  of  the  thunder  grew  louder,  nearer.  From 
a  low  grumbling  it  broke  into  angry  roars,  that  were 
answered  by  other  and  angrier  roars,  and  the  wild  bom- 
bardment was  begun.  A  patter  of  rain,  like  drops  from 
the  wounded  warriors  of  the  sky,  fell  on  the  leaves  and  the 
grass;  then,  with  a  shrill  whistle  of  wind,  the  drops  be- 
came a  deluge,  and  the  trees  arched  their  backs  to  meet 
the  weight  of  it. 

The  broad  pagoda  of  the  pine  was  like  a  roof  and 
sheltered  Jesse  from  the  rush  of  waters;  but  a  wilder 
danger  menaced  him — a  swift,  incalculable  danger.  There 
came  a  deafening  roar,  a  flash  of  flame,  and  only  a  few 
yards  to  the  right  of  him  a  tree  fell  crashing  to  the 
ground — the  very  one  he  had  considered  for  a  shelter 
before  he  chose  the  pine. 

"  O  Spirit  that  is  myself,"  he  prayed,  "  bring  Thou 
this  body,  our  servant,  safely  through  the  baptism  of 
fire!" 

Suddenly  a  roar  as  of  a  thousand  cannon  .  .  ,  . 
blinding  light  ...  a  vivid  sight  within  the  blind- 
ness .  .  .  and  he  knew  no  more.  .  .  . 

When  Jesse  opened  his  eyes  and  struggled  back  to  con- 
sciousness, he  found  himself  face  downward  on  the  soak- 

199 


200          THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

ing  grass;  over  him  a  cool  wind  blew  with  refreshing 
breath.  The  rain  was  over,  the  voice  of  the  storm  was 
still,  and  only  the  excited  whisper  of  the  swelling  river 
rushed  across  the  silence. 

His  body  felt  sore  and  shattered,  but  he  staggered  to 
his  feet.  How  pure  and  fresh  was  the  world  after  its 
baptism  of  fire  and  water!  He  turned  to  look  at  the 
pine-tree  which  had  afforded  him  such  dangerous  hospi- 
tality: one  of  the  boughs  was  torn  from  the  trunk  and 
was  hanging  by  a  long  strip  of  bark,  while  a  few  feet 
distant  a  great  hole  in  the  ground  showed  where  the  bolt 
had  spent  its  fury.  The  sun  now  came  out  from  behind 
a  bank  of  clouds,  and  Jesse  climbed  upon  a  large  flat 
rock  to  dry  himself  and  to  consider  his  escape. 

He  told  himself  that  had  he  listened  yesterday  to  the 
voice  of  temptation,  had  he  failed  in  the  trial,  had  he 
compromised  with  his  own  faith  and  thought  to  build 
his  spiritual  temple  with  the  stones  of  worldly  ambition 
and  expediency,  the  power  which  had  stunned  him  would 
have  killed  outright,  and  his  forfeited  body  would  now  be 
lying  at  the  base  of  the  broken  tree.  But  he  had  found 
an  answer  to  the  question  which  had  puzzled  him  in  the 
cave:  of  what  nature  was  the  fire  of  celestial  space. 

He  remembered  reading  somewhere:  "  Electricity  flashes 
only  when  its  current  is  interrupted."  He  saw  the  dual 
application  of  the  principle  in  space  and  in  himself;  for 
without  the  interruption  of  the  spiritual  current  by  this 
material  body  which  often  weighed  upon  him,  he  could 
not  light  the  visible  world  with  his  invisible  message. 
Here  was  another  dangerous  paradox — an  opening  wedge 
for  the  Spirit  of  Evil,  that  had  appeared,  with  specious 
reasoning,  to  his  subjective  eye  and  ear.  While  the  Holy 
Spirit  must  manifest  as  the  God  of  matter,  it  must  never 
abdicate  its  sovereignty.  The  ramifications  of  this  mys- 
tery he  explored  in  meditation  for  several  days. 

One  night  he  lay  gazing  at  a  flaming  star  in  the  west 
and  considering  the  infinite  duration  of  its  existence.  How 
could  the  soul  of  man  be  less  eternal?  Was  it  not  related 
to  the  Spirit  of  yonder  planet?  and  would  they  not 
both  survive  their  material  body?  In  thought  he  fol- 


THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL          201 

lowed  the  stupendous  steps  of  the  star  from  its  nebular 
infancy  in  the  dim  past;  in  thought  he  followed  the  steps 
of  his  own  soul  from  its  original  unity  with  God.  The 
two  ways  seemed  equally  long.  Not  until  the  spirit  of 
man  has  delivered  itself  from  the  temptations  of  the  Spirit 
of  Evil  are  the  higher  stellar  mysteries  unveiled  to  it; 
much  may  be  learned  before,  but  the  final  arcana  are  for 
the  pure  in  heart  only. 

Jesse  never  spoke  to  anyone  but  John  of  what  he 
learned  during  these  later  days  on  the  mountain — and 
even  to  him  he  could  not  tell  it  all.  He  caught  echoes 
of  the  speech  that  celestial  beings  use  with  one  another; 
he  learned  the  uses  of  the  mystical  Word  that  was  "with 
God  in  the  beginning,"  and  was  the  unknown  cause  of  all 
the  known  developments  of  Nature — the  Word  that  never 
can  be  formed  in  mortal  speech;  learned  the  secret  affini- 
ties that  unite  substances,  and  why  the  seed  of  every  animal 
and  plant  reproduces  the  image  of  its  parent;  learned  how 
each  particle  of  the  universe  contains  within  itself  the  im- 
pulse for  reunion  with  its  Source.  After  three  days  spent 
in  superhuman  contemplation  of  superhuman  truths,  Jesse 
turned  with  his  new  knowledge  to  study  in  its  light  the 
corresponding  mysteries  of  the  human. 

He  watched  a  butterfly  with  iridescent  wings  which 
fluttered  round  a  flower — symbol  of  the  ethereal  soul,  which 
comes  and  goes,  and  touches  lightly  the  ephemeral  flowers 
that  are  human  bodies,  blooming  a  little  while  in  the 
sunshine  before  they  return  to  the  dust. 

"O  bright  pilgrim  of  air!"  he  whispered.  "The  star 
of  immortality  shines  over  you,  though  unseen  in  the 
noonday  of  earthly  trial.  The  winds  of  pleasure  and  pain 
that  blow  you  here  and  there  will  pass  and  leave  but 
vaguest  memories;  the  griefs  of  to-day  will  be  one  with  the 
joys  of  a  thousand  years  ago." 

As  he  mused  on  the  mystery  of  immortal  life,  it  came  to 
him  again,  like  a  fresh  revelation,  that  there  could  never 
have  been  a  time  when  he  was  not,  and  there  could  never 
be  a  time  when  he  should  cease  to  be. 

"  I  am  immortal  and  indestructible,"  he  cried  aloud, 
even  as  he  had  cried  that  day,  so  long  ago,  "  I  myself  am 
God." 


202          THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

Of  the  millions  of  men  who  have  taken  that  declaration 
of  individual  immortality  upon  their  lips,  perhaps  one  in 
every  million  has  grasped  the  living  consciousness  of  it — 
the  glory.  To  be  immortal  is  to  be  superior  to  change 
and  above  disaster;  it  is  to  work  for  the  joy  of  the  work- 
ing and  not  merely  for  the  prizes  of  life,  as  the  one  su- 
preme and  incomparable  boon  is  already  in  one's  hand. 
Immortal!  To  watch  the  ages  pass  like  the  marching  sol- 
diers of  an  army,  to  sit  in  the  council-hall  of  destiny,  to 
stand  in  a  secure  place  when  the  nations  go  forth  to  war 
and  death  and  terror  stalk  up  and  down  the  world,  to  study 
life  as  one  studies  a  book  of  geometry,  to  guard  unseen 
the  cradle  of  the  new-born  child  of  earth,  to  be  the  poetry 
which  shakes  the  heart  of  virgin  love,  to  thrill  at  the 
metaphors  of  planetary  correspondences.  Immortal! 

Again  the  crescent  moon  appeared  to  companion  his 
meditations,  again  he  watched  its  silvery  reflection  in  the 
water.  Much  had  he  learned  and  lived  since  the  spectral 
wanderer  last  walked  with  the  Lion  in  the  plains  of  the 
Zodiac. 

Jesse  had  come  to  realise  by  this  time  that  his  contem- 
plation had  progressed  by  definite  stages,  each  tending  to  a 
distinct  end.  He  thought  of  the  initiations  of  the  an- 
cients, and  wondered  if  he  were  not  finding  for  himself 
a  similar  path  of  illumination.  Was  not  the  soul's  way 
one,  in  every  age  and  clime?  But  he  had  found  that  way 
unaided. 

The  physical  discomfort  of  his  mountain  sojourn  could 
not  tempt  him  to  seek  the  lower  levels  of  civilisation,  un- 
til he  should  have  found  something  which  he  believed  to 
lie  beyond  even  his  present  attainment.  Step  by  step  he 
followed  the  guidance  of  the  Spirit  through  the  labyrinths 
of  thought  and  feeling,  as  all  his  life  he  had  followed  step 
by  step  the  inner  monitor  which  had  led  him  toward  the 
goal  of  his  future  ministry.  No  study  had  been  too  long 
for  him,  no  task  too  humble  or  too  difficult.  But  his  pres- 
ent path  seemed  to  lie  outside  the  limits  of  terrestrial  life. 

He  had  made  his  own  the  knowledge  of  all  human  mis- 
ery and  human  joy,  had  tasted  the  essence  of  fraternity; 
but  now  for  a  season  he  must  leave  behind  the  very  thought 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          203 

of  all  whom  he  had  loved  and  who  had  loved  him,  and 
plunge  alone  into  the  wilderness  of  space.  Beyond  the 
blood-stained  path  of  earth-existence,  beset  by  servile  and 
evil  creatures  that  ever  seek  to  drag  downward  the  soul 
of  man,  in  the  region  beyond  the  moon  and  the  planets  his 
spiritual  form  wandered  in  the  twilight — in  the  vast  womb 
of  the  universal  Mother,  where  forms  are  generated  by 
the  Formless. 

Out  .  .  .  out  ...  he  went  in  consciousness, 
past  planet  after  planet.  .  .  .  Saturn  behind  him  was 
a  speck  in  the  grey  distance  .  .  .  on  to  the  pale  path 
of  Uranus  .  .  .  out  beyond  the  opalescent  track  of 
the  ether-wallowing  Neptune  .  .  .  still  on  and  on 
into  the  unknown  void.  The  solitude  was  appalling.  The 
stillness  of  an  earthly  desert  would  have  seemed  deafening 
noise  had  a  rumour  of  it  been  blown  across  this  awful 
stillness  of  infinity. 

He  felt  a  pain  like  that  of  the  uprooted  plant,  torn 
from  the  mother  earth;  he  was  lost  in  the  loneliness  out- 
side of  time;  cold  shivers  shook  his  naked  spirit,  and  the 
terror  of  the  unknown  challenged  him.  If  he  should 
never  find  his  way  back!  Invisible,  infinitesimal  was  the 
earth-home  he  had  left  behind.  Should  he  ever  see  it  again? 
After  the  first  shock  of  the  question,  the  answer  seemed  of 
small  importance.  What  was  the  speck  of  dust  called 
earth,  that  he  should  exalt  it  above  all  the  other  wonders 
of  God's  workshop?  And  why  was  he  so  lonely  and 
afraid?  However  far  he  wandered  in  the  trackless  void, 
could  he  find  a  place  where  God  was  not? 

Slowly,  reluctantly,  at  last  his  consciousness  came  back 
to  the  earth.  He  realised  himself  again  as  a  corporeal 
being  with  hands  and  feet,  with  human  needs  and  human 
limitations.  His  very  body  now  seemed  strange  and  alien 
to  his  soul. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 

ONE  fiery  noon,  a  few  days  later,  Jesse  lay  down  in 
the  shade  of  a  tree  and  passed  into  a  deep  sleep. 

How  long  he  had  been  lying  there  he  never  knew, 
whether  an  hour  or  a  day  and  an  hour;  but,  in  the  strange 
consciousness  between  sleeping  and  waking,  he  found  him- 
self lying  in  the  full  blaze  of  the  sun.  And  he  became 
aware  that  the  flaming  eye  of  day  was  something  more 
than  the  familiar  source  of  the  world's  light  and  heat, 
more  than  the  centre  of  the  solar  system;  that  it  was  even 
the  Spiritual  Sun  which  is  God,  the  centre  of  the  system 
of  souls,  in  whose  rays  man  awakes  to  the  divine  world. 

He  gazed  with  unflinching  eyes  at  that  supreme  efful- 
gence. And  the  golden  sun  was  like  a  window  through 
which  he  looked  into  another  dimension  of  space,  a  uni- 
verse within  and  yet  unmixed  with  our  visible  universe, 
permeating  it  as  feeling  permeates  the  body.  Even  the 
positive  and  negative  forces  of  his  own  being  that  he  had 
learned  to  master  were  in  the  light  of  this  new  revelation 
athrill  with  other  and  stranger  potencies.  With  the  open- 
ing of  yonder  window,  every  power  of  his  being  was  made 
free. 

But  he  realised  the  price  of  the  attainment:  For  every 
superhuman  faculty  acquired  by  the  dauntless  soul,  some 
lower  privilege  must  be  relinquished.  He  who  has  gazed 
into  the  open  eye  of  Infinity  can  nevermore  defend  him- 
self as  against  any  other  being,  never  choose  a  given  way 
merely  because  it  is  pleasant  to  walk  therein,  never  again 
claim  as  his  own  even  the  privilege  to  weep.  The  Divine 
Idea  once  grasped  by  the  mind  of  man — as  a  self-defensive 
being  that  man  exists  no  longer. 

The  next  great  lesson  that  he  learned  was  why  things 
are — life  and  death,  pleasure  and  pain,  good  and  evil,  re- 
ward and  punishment;  the  primal  law  of  cause  and  effect, 

P04 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          205 

which  has  been  called  by  many  names  in  many  philosophies 
— and  as  often  misunderstood.  He  saw  the  reason  why  one 
man  is  clothed  with  power,  another  with  weakness;  why 
two  beings  may  love  and  trust  each  other,  two  beings  hate 
and  fear;  why  attraction  and  repulsion,  the  inseparable 
twins,  delude  and  bewilder  the  mind  until  light  seems 
shadow  and  shadow  seems  light;  why  the  soul  oftentimes 
chooses  for  itself  a  destiny  of  trouble,  and  learns  the  lesson 
therein  hidden — or  does  not  learn  it.  He  saw  how  the 
soul  passes  judgment  upon  itself;  how  the  judgment  of 
the  Spirit  is  our  judgment,  because  we  are  the  Spirit.  The 
suffering  of  the  world  became  to  him  a  mirror  wherein  he 
saw  reflected  the  cause  of  that  suffering.  He  solved  the 
mystery  behind  eternal  motion — the  inherent  urge  of  life, 
the  impetus  within  the  soul  itself. 

The  awakening  of  the  dead  assumed  a  new  and  deeper 
meaning.  He  saw  how  the  Spirit  renews  its  vehicle,  the 
shadow  cast  by  the  wings  of  Time  becoming  the  garments 
of  the  Timeless;  learned  how  the  trumpet  that  summons 
to  judgment  is  blown  continually  throughout  the  ages. 
And  he  fell  on  his  face,  in  adoration  of  the  Intelligence 
which  weighs  the  effect  and  the  cause  in  the  delicate  scales 
of  cosmic  justice. 

Jesse  now  passed  a  day  or  two  in  rest  and  in  the  quiet 
enjoyment  of  the  cool,  green  world.  He  knew  that  his 
period  of  solitude  was  drawing  near  its  end;  that  after 
one  more  vision  of  the  sovereign  Eternity,  he  must  return 
to  deliver  his  message  to  the  slaves  of  Time.  He  was  in 
no  hurry  for  the  final  initiation,  and  no  longer  either 
dreaded  or  rejoiced  in  the  thought  of  his  mission.  It  was 
to  be — that  was  all.  The  joys  of  labour  well  performed 
might  come  in  the  future;  but  sufficient  unto  the  present 
hour  was  the  wonder  of  the  vision. 

At  last,  one  perfect  evening  when  the  moon  was  full,  he 
chose  a  spot  near  the  top  of  the  mountain  and  sat  down 
to  await  the  revelation.  Whether  it  would  come  as  a 
series  of  illuminating  pictures  visible  to  his  inner  eye,  or  as 
the  formless  Idea,  he  had  no  knowledge  and  no  clue.  He 
only  waited. 

Slowly   his   consciousness   expanded.      Though    his   body 


206         THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

was  fixed  on  a  remote  spot  on  one  of  the  smaller  planets  of 
one  of  the  innumerable  solar  systems  of  the  universe,  his 
perception,  liberated  from  the  trammels  of  the  body,  swifter 
than  light,  more  volatile  than  ether,  radiated  in  all  di- 
rections until  he  occupied,  as  a  self-conscious  and  limitless 
entity,  every  atom  of  that  universe. 

Long  ago  he  had  cried,  in  the  joy  of  a  lesser  revelation, 
"  I  myself  am  God ; "  but  he  now  realised  the  infiniteness 
of  that  identity.  He  remembered,  as  an  event  in  his  own 
past,  the  condensation  of  the  suns  from  cosmic  fire-dust. 
He  beheld,  as  a  pageant  without  beginning  or  end,  the 
dateless,  rhythmic  march  of  creation  and  destruction;  felt 
the  vast  beating  of  the  heart  of  God,  the  atoms  of  whose 
blood  are  whirling  suns.  He  perceived  the  phenomena  of 
time,  of  sequence,  without  relation  to  terrestrial  dates;  per- 
ceived the  past  and  the  future  as  coexistent  in  the  thought 
of  God,  and  the  events  of  a  million  years  to  come  were  as 
clear  as  the  happenings  of  his  own  earthly  yesterday.  His 
own !  Were  the  two  not  'equally  his  own  ? 

In  the  hours  that  came  his  spirit  walked  in  ways  we 
may  not  follow,  achieved  experiences  we  may  not  record; 
for  human  language  is  evolved  by  race  development,  and 
the  human  race  has  never  walked  those  ways  not  compassed 
that  experience.  Adrift  on  the  sea  of  infinity,  his  spirit 
clung  to  his  mind  as  to  the  frail  bark  which  should  bear 
him  back  to  the  shores  of  earthly  life.  Had  the  ecstatic 
spirit  lost  its  hold  upon  that  mind,  the  world  had  never 
known  him  more,  and  the  guerdon-treasure  of  the  perilous 
quest  had  never  'enriched  mankind. 

Reluctantly,  after  a  long  time,  he  left  those  larger  cir- 
cles of  existence  and  shrank  to  the  earth  which  bore  him, 
— not  yet  to  his  own  body,  but  to  the  earth,  the  great  body 
which  now  seemed  to  be  his;  and  to  him  who  had  walked 
the  periphery  of  the  universe,  even  the  earth's  wide  orbit 
seemed  a  narrow  way.  He  felt  as  firmly  held  by  the  ron- 
dure of  the  planet  as  he  had  ever  been  held  by  his  form  of 
flesh.  The  destiny  of  the  earth  seemed  to  be  his  destiny, 
its  pain  his  pain;  and  the  entire  past  of  humanity  was  as 
well  known  to  him  as  the  events  of  his  own  life  from  child- 
hood to  the  present  hour.  He  felt  the  sheer  physical  bulk 


THE    SON    OF    MARY   BETHEL          207 

of  the  earth  as  being  his  own  body;  the  great  shoulders  of 
the  northern  continents  were  his,  his  feet  were  in  the 
Antarctic.  But  his  consciousness  was  the  consciousness  of 
collective  Man — the  race  ego  was  himself,  its  slow  develop- 
ment was  the  evolution  of  himself.  With  inexpressible 
ecstasy  he  felt  the  groping  aspirations  of  that  great  earth- 
being  toward  the  Spirit  that  evolved  it;  with  inexpressible 
pain  he  felt  the  suffering  of  that  being  when  destitute  of 
hope,  chained  to  the  matter  that  ever  deceived  it,  ever 
failed  to  satisfy  the  yearning  flame  within.  He  was  Adam- 
Eve,  the  dual  pilgrim  of  Time;  he  was  every  soul  that 
ever  was  or  ever  will  be  on  this  whirling  sphere.  He 
contemplated  the  ellipse  of  the  earth's  orbit  as  an  ordinary 
man  regards  the  circle  of  his  daily  walk. 

Then,  as  slowly  and  reluctantly  as  he  had  left  the  larger 
circles  of  space  for  the  lesser  one  of  the  earth's  way,  he 
contracted  in  consciousness  to  the  limits  of  his  individual 
horizon.  He  was  once  more  the  man  Jesse,  who  was  born 
in  Vermont  of  humble  parentage,  and  who  aspired  to 
found  the  republic  of  the  spiritual  life.  Bewildered  by  the 
change,  he  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  about  him. 

The  sun  was  rising,  as  if  to  welcome  the  intrepid  travel- 
ler of  space  on  his  return  to  the  green  earth.  When  he 
had  closed  his  eyes,  long  hours  before,  the  full  moon  in 
the  eastern  sky  had  bidden  him  Godspeed  on  his  incalcula- 
ble journey.  The  familiar  mountains  now  appeared  strange 
as  do  the  scenes  of  his  childhood  to  a  man  who  has  wan- 
dered a  lifetime  in  foreign  lands;  the  hills  seemed  not  so 
high,  the  river  not  so  wide,  and  the  lives  of  the  restless 
dwellers  in  the  wilderness  briefer  and  less  important. 

His  period  of  solitude  was  over.  Now  to  the  world 
again!  As  he  had  before  laid  aside  his  personal  rights  and 
privileges,  he  now  laid  aside  his  meditations.  Henceforth 
ceaseless,  unresting  activity  would  be  the  order  of  his  life. 

If  he  could  only  give  all  that  he  had  learned  to  others! 
But  he  realised  that  at  best  he  could  only  point  the  way — 
which  they  must  walk  for  themselves.  The  misery  of 
humanity  was  an  oppressive  weight  upon  his  heart.  Oh, 
to  give  himself  as  a  sacrifice  for  all  these  men  and  women! 
What  was  the  lust  of  fame,  the  lust  of  power,  when 


208          THE    SON    OF    MARY   BETHEL 

weighed  in  the  balance  with  this  passion  for  self-giving? 
Greater,  he  thought,  to  serve  the  world  unthanked,  than 
to  command  the  service  of  the  world. 

With  head  erect  and  steady  eyes  that  pierced  the  future, 
Jesse  walked  rapidly  down  the  mountain  toward  the  levels 
of  common  humanity,  carrying  with  him  the  pure  atmos- 
phere of  the  everlasting  heights. 


BOOK    III 
THE   FULFILMENT 


CHAPTER   XXXIV 

* 

IN  a  little  house  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  lived  a 
lumberman  named  Williams  and  his  young  wife.  Stand- 
ing together  in  their  doorway  one  Sunday  morning  in 
July,  they  saw  a  majestic  stranger  coming  toward  them 
down  the  steep  road.  With  rustic  curiosity  they  stared 
at  him,  and  when  he  paused  and  lifted  the  latch  of  their 
gate,  the  woman's  heart  beat  fast. 

"  May  I  rest  with  you  for  a  day  and  a  night?  "  he  asked. 
"  I  am  hungry  and  in  need  of  sleep." 

"  Rest,  eat  and  be  welcome,"  answered  the  man;  and 
his  wife  disappeared  for  a  moment  into  the  house,  return- 
ing with  a  bowl  of  cool,  delicious  milk. 

"  Dinner  will  be  ready  in  a  little  while,"  she  said. 

He  thanked  her  for  the  milk,  and  added :  "  For  forty 
days  I  have  subsisted  in  the  wilderness  up  there,  on  wild 
berries  and  spiritual  bread;  so  an  hour  of  fasting,  more  or 
less,  is  of  no  consequence  to  me." 

They  gazed  at  him  in  wonderment.  Was  this  another 
wandering  Hermit,  like  him  who  had  passed  their  house 
one  day  with  a  group  of  wild-eyed  followers,  crying 
harshly  of  repentance  and  the  day  of  wrath?  But  the 
Hermit  was  mad,  they  believed,  and  there  was  no  madness 
in  the  calm  eyes  which  now  looked  so  lovingly  at  them. 

"Are  you  also  seeking  for  one  who  shall  transform  the 
world  ?  "  the  lumberman  ventured,  incredulously. 

"  Even  the  Hermit  is  not  seeking  any  longer;  his  quest 
is  ended." 

They  dared  not  voice  the  thought  which  flashed  through 
their  minds.  Was  it  possible  that  the  prophecy  of  John 
had  been  verified?  The  man  before  them  was  certainly 
unlike  anybody  they  had  ever  seen  before.  The  long  fast 
and  exaltation  on  the  mountain,  the  ecstasy  of  the  previous 
night,  had  given  him  a  look  of  unearthliness,  of  supermor- 


212          THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL 

tal  purity,  that  was  reflected  even  in  the  dull  eyes  of  these 
mountaineers. 

Jesse  smiled  softly  at  their  bewilderment,  and  said: 

"  Many  that  cursed  the  messenger  who  went  before  the 
dawn  will  rise  joyfully  to  greet  the  sunrise." 

The  religious  heart  of  the  young  wife  was  stirred  by 
the  words  and  presence  of  her  guest;  and  the  duty  of  pre- 
paring the  midday  dinner  was  welcome  to  her,  as  an  op- 
portunity for  controlling  her  emotion. 

He  ate  at  their  table,  he  rested  and  slept  beneath  their 
humble  roof,  he  told  them  of  his  mission  in  simple  words 
which  they  could  understand;  and  when  on  the  morrow 
he  asked  them  if  they  would  leave  their  home  and  follow 
him,  the  man  cried,  "  Yes,  to  the  end  of  the  world ! "  and 
the  woman  wept  for  joy.  That  afternoon  they  started  for 
Burlington,  and  the  obliging  old  neighbour  who  drove 
them  to  the  nearest  railway-station  talked  of  his  beautiful 
passenger  and  repeated  his  strange  sayings  to  the  day  of 
his  death. 

Arrived  in  Burlington,  Jesse  and  his  two  companions 
went  to  the  house  of  one  of  the  disciples  of  John  the 
Hermit,  who  was  also  a  friend  of  Andrew  Bond  of  Ca- 
pronville.  Hardly  had  Jesse  crossed  the  threshold  when  he 
heard  a  cry  of  joy,  and  the  hands  of  the  friend  who  came 
nearest  to  understanding  him — the  young  John — were  warm 
within  his  own. 

"I  have  been  waiting  for  you  here  three  days,"  the 
boy  said.  "I  felt  that  you  would  come  soon.  I  needed 
you  so ! " 

Jesse's  eyes  were  tender  as  he  answered: 

"  The  greater  you  are,  the  seldomer  will  you  find  the 
understanding  friend  whom  you  need;  but  the  oftener  will 
you  find  the  misunderstanding  friend  who  has  need  of 
you." 

At  the  supper-table  he  began  to  teach  them.  There 
were  ten  persons  present  at  the  meal,  several  of  them  being 
men  who  had  followed  the  Hermit.  Instinctively  they 
gave  to  Jesse  the  respectful  attention  they  were  wont  to 
give  to  their  own  stern  teacher,  and  something  else — a 
wistful,  surprised  enrapturement  which  John  had  never 
inspired.  Jesse's  teachings  startled  and  charmed  them, 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          213 

they  were  so  different  from  anything  they  had  ever  heard. 
He  spoke  with  the  sureness  of  authority,  and  his  words 
gave  a  new  meaning  to  their  ideas  of  God  and  man. 

"  He  who  is  fully  negative  to  God,"  he  said,  "  may  be- 
come positive  to  the  whole  universe." 

He  did  not  speak  as  the  preachers  do,  ringing  all  the 
changes  on  a  given  theme,  pursuing  it  up  and  down  until 
the  attention  of  the  listener  is  weary;  but  he  taught  them 
in  brief,  pregnant  sentences,  with  pauses  and  conversation 
between,  that  his  words  might  fix  themselves  in  their 
memory. 

"  My  will  is  the  will  of  God — when  I  am  strong 
enough  to  put  my  will  into  effect." 

They  looked  at  him  in  astonishment. 

"  Can  the  will  of  man  prevail  against  God's  will  ? "  he 
asked.  "  Can  you  countermand  the  order  of  the  Supreme? 
You  see  that  the  Law  must  be  as  I  have  said,  though  the 
way  of  its  working  is  a  mystery." 

After  a  little  while,  he  continued: 

"  You  can  never  know  God  until  you  know  yourself, 
and  to  know  yourself  you  must  first  forget  the  existence 
of  self." 

Their  minds,  unaccustomed  to  subtleties  of  thought, 
could  hardly  grasp  his  meaning,  and  someone  asked  him 
to  repeat  what  he  had  said  about  knowing  God  and  one- 
self. He  smilingly  complied,  and  seeing  still  the  look  of 
wonder  on  their  faces,  he  said: 

"  If  you  have  the  courage  to  examine  the  recesses  of 
you  own  nature  without  fear  and  without  shame,  you 
have  found  the  key  which  shall  unlock  for  you  the  doors 
of  eternal  safety  and  honour.  Fear  and  shame  are  two 
dragons  barring  the  path  of  knowledge  to  all  save  those 
indomitable  spirits  which  hunger  for  the  everlasting  truth. 

"  Before  a  man  can  have  confidence  in  the  soul,  he  must 
first  become  acquainted  with  the  soul.  Should  you  meet 
your  own  soul  face  to  face,  would  you  know  it  for  the 
God  it  is?'; 

They  smiled  at  him  and  at  each  other,  shyly,  half- 
ashamed  of  the  new-born  confidence  warming  their  hearts 
and  shining  in  their  neighbours'  eyes.  Perhaps  they  were 
not  vile,  after  all,  as  the  Hermit  had  so  often  told  them. 


214          THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

Search  their  own  hearts  without  fear  and  without  shame, 
the  new  teacher  commanded  them,  for  so  they  would  find 
God.  Should  they  also  search  the  hearts  of  one  another? 
He  answered  their  unspoken  thought: 

"  When  you  discover  and  become  the  God  within  your- 
self, all  other  men  shall  be  as  your  children,  to  be  loved 
with  a  love  that  passes  their  weak  knowledge." 

"  Is  it  not  wrong,"  asked  the  man  in  whose  house  they 
were, — "  is  there  not  danger  in  thinking  too  highly  of  sin- 
ful humanity  ?  " 

"  No.  Even  the  average  man  who  would  measure  the 
greatness  of  his  own  soul,  or  the  soul  of  his  brother,  needs 
a  tape  long  enough  to  reach  the  stars." 

So  he  began  to  teach  them,  stirring  their  faith  in  them- 
selves and  in  each  other,  arousing  their  enthusiasm  for  him. 
And  after  they  separated  for  the  night,  Jesse  was  the  only 
one  who  slept;  the  others  lay  for  hours  meditating  upon 
his  strange  words  and  entrancing  presence,  which  seemed 
to  stand  at  the  foot  of  their  beds  with  uplifted  finger, 
pointing  the  way  to  a  shining  road  whose  end  was  lost  in 
the  mystery  of  God. 

The  next  day  came  Peter  and  Andrew  and  Judson 
Carey,  who  had  been  summoned  from  Capronville  to  join 
their  teacher  on  his  return  from  the  mountain.  They 
cried  out  at  first  beholding  the  new  beauty  shining  in  the 
countenance  of  him  who  had  always  been  beautiful  beyond 
all  other  men. 

"  We  have  left  our  mill  in  the  care  of  the  womenfolks," 
said  the  matter-of-fact  Peter  to  Jesse,  with  a  mellow  smile 
which  won  the  hearts  of  the  new  members  of  the  little 
band,  "  we  have  left  our  home  in  the  care  of  God,  and 
are  come  to  follow  you  wherever  you  may  lead  us." 

"  Even  to  the  dwelling-place  of  the  Spirit?  "  Jesse  asked. 

"  Even  to  the  dwelling-place  of  the  Spirit — if  our  feet 
are  not  too  heavy  to  pass  that  ethereal  threshold." 

"Oh!  Our  Peter  has  become  a  poet,"  cried  the  schol- 
arly John,  his  boyish  face  aflame  with  pleasure." 

"  He  can  make  poets  of  plough-boys,"  said  Andrew, 
with  a  deep  look  at  his  beloved  friend,  who  answered  him: 

"  When  the  praise  men  give  you  shall  seem  not  praise 
of  yourself,  but  of  the  pervading  Spirit,  when  it  seems  im- 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          215 

personal  as  their  admiration  of  the  dawn  or  the  starry 
heavens,  then  know  that  you  are  on  the  path  of  personal 
immortality." 

Jesse  wished  to  see  the  Hermit  again,  but  learned  that 
he  was  preaching  on  the  other  side  of  Lake  Champlain. 
The  prophet  whose  habit  was  self-mortification,  would  not 
indulge  himself  even  in  the  pleasure  of  close  association 
with  the  one  for  whom  he  had  prepared  the  way.  It  was 
no  part  of  Jesse's  plan  to  begin  his  ministry  in  Burlington, 
to  supplant  on  his  own  ground  the  one  who  had  pro- 
claimed him;  and  his  eyes,  which  could  penetrate  the  mists 
of  the  future,  saw  darkly  that  the  life  of  the  austere  wan- 
derer was  somehow  nearing  its  end.  So,  taking  with  him 
his  own  friends,  and  two  of  the  Hermit's  converts  who 
prayed  to  be  allowed  to  follow  the  new  teacher,  he  went 
down  to  Vergennes,  a  few  miles  to  the  south. 

How  different  was  his  entry  of  the  little  city  from  that 
other  time,  eleven  years  before,  when  he  had  gone  up 
there  from  his  home  in  Nashburgh,  a  young  carpenter 
looking  for  work!  Vergennes — the  home  of  Mary  Mag- 
nus. Where  was  she  now?  Was  she  seeking,  in  some 
far  foreign  land,  ease  for  her  restless  soul?  Or  should 
he  find  her  there  in  the  old  place,  awaiting  in  solitude  the 
messenger  of  her  fate?  He  had  known  for  many  years, 
with  that  inner  certainty  surer  than  all  pledges,  that  in 
some  unknown  way  this  woman  was  to  be  closely  connected 
with  his  own  high  destiny. 


CHAPTER   XXXV 

MARY  MAGNUS,  twenty-eight  years  old,  sole  mistress 
of  herself  and  of  her  dead  father's  fortune,  had  come  home 
to  Vergennes  after  a  three-years'  journey  around  the  world. 
She  was  more  beautiful  than  ever.  From  New  York 
through  Europe  and  Asia  eastward  to  Yokohama,  she  had 
been  followed,  feted  and  adored.  Suddenly,  in  the  latter 
city,  about  a  month  before,  she  had  dismissed  her  follow- 
ers and  friends,  and  had  caught  the  first  Pacific  steamer 
for  San  Francisco,  keeping  secluded  in  her  stateroom  nearly 
all  the  way.  Arrived  on  shore,  she  had  taken  the  fastest 
train  across  the  continent;  but  even  the  steam-winged 
dragon  of  the  plains  was  too  slow  for  her  restless  passion 
to  be  in  Vergennes.  Why  had  that  insignificant  dot  on 
the  world's  map  suddenly  loomed  so  large  in  her  eyes  that 
it  shut  out  the  view  of  all  things  near  and  far?  She  could 
not  give  a  reasonable  answer  to  the  question.  Was  it  a 
call  of  Destiny,  she  wondered, — one  of  those  vague,  un- 
reasonable commands  that  move  the  souls  of  men  and 
women  at  long  intervals  to  fly  in  the  face  of  judgment 
and  discretion,  fly  wildly  toward  some  unknown  goal? 

When  she  found  herself  at  last,  one  day  in  July,  in  the 
quiet,  cool  old  house,  she  passed  her  hand  across  her  eyes 
in  bewilderment.  Why  was  she  there?  The  city,  the  very 
State  and  nation  of  her  birth,  had  grown  distasteful  to 
her  long  ago.  The  presence  of  her  dead  mother,  ever 
melancholy  and  complaining,  seemed  to  haunt  the  shadowy 
rooms  of  home.  Her  intimate  girl  friends  were  married 
and  gone  away,  and  the  narrow  society  of  the  little  town 
had  always  so  wearied  her  that  her  listlessness  had  alien- 
ated the  few  old  women  who  had  been  her  mother's  inti- 
mates. Only  the  green,  blossomy  garden  behind  the  house 
seemed  to  welcome  her  with  love.  The  buzzing  of  the 
bees  among  the  hollyhocks  made  her  eyes  fill  with  tears. 
Over  in  the  far  corner  her  hammock  used  to  swing  between 
two  trees,  and  she  closed  her  eyes  and  bit  her  lips  with  the 

216 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          217 

onrush  of  an  overwhelming  memory.  The  servant  who 
met  her  as  she  re-entered  the  house  wondered  why  the 
face  of  her  mistress  burned  so  deep  a  red. 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  following  day  she  walked  down 
the  main  street  of  the  town  for  the  purpose  of  cashing  a 
check  at  her  father's  old  bank,  now  in  other  hands.  Then 
she  went  on  through  the  village.  Passing  the  park,  she 
saw  a  crowd  of  people  gathered  about  someone  who  was 
talking  to  them  in  clear,  ringing  tones.  A  few  words  only 
caught  her  ear  in  the  distance: 

"  God  is  the  Power,  and  I  am  the  expression  of  the 
Power." 

Where  had  she  heard  that  voice?  Surely  nowhere  that 
voice,  but  one  strangely  like  it,  as  the  green  little  bud  of 
the  rose  is  in  some  way  like  the  full-blown  fragrant  won- 
der of  the  blossom.  Why  did  her  heart  stand  still  at  the 
voice  of  this  wandering  preacher?  She  had  heard  many 
preachers  in  many  lands:  had  sat  at  the  feet  of  Hindu 
yogis  in  India,  had  listened  to  discourses  on  the  Mahayana 
in  Tokio,  had  gazed  into  the  eyes  of  an  enthusiastic  Ma- 
hometan as  he  talked  of  the  power  of  Allah,  had  heard 
the  voice  of  the  greatest  religious  potentate  of  the  world. 
Yet  she  trembled  at  the  voice  of  a  wandering  preacher  in 
the  little  provincial  town  of  her  birth.  Strange! 

Moved  by  something  deeper  than  curiosity,  she  joined 
the  spellbound  group  around  the  speaker,  with  a  proud 
grace  which  made  the  people  give  place  to  her  until  she 
stood  but  a  few  feet  away  from  the  man  to  whom  they 
were  listening.  Then  she  raised  her  eyes.  .  .  .  It 
was  Jesse. 

At  first  she  had  no  idea  of  what  he  was  saying.  She 
only  saw  him,  and  heard  the  strange,  sweet  voice  rising 
and  thrilling  and  deepening  with  the  fervour  of  his  feel- 
ing. He  had  been  beautiful  in  the  days  of  his  youth,  more 
beautiful  still  in  his  early  manhood ;  but  since  those  forty 
days  on  the  mountain  his  face  had  assumed  a  look  for 
which  there  is  no  name  in  the  vocabulary  of  men. 

Did  he  see  and  recognise  her?  If  so,  he  gave  no  sign. 
In  the  exaltation  of  his  discourse,  the  woman  who  had 
joined  the  throng  about  him  was  only  one  of  the  leaves  in 
the  great  forest  of  human  souls  which  he  was  sent  to  save 


218          THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

from  the  withering  breath  of  spiritual  drought.  From  the 
bewildering  sweetness  of  his  voice  her  mind  began  to  dis- 
entangle the  threads  of  thought — of  speech. 

"  When  the  soul  serves  the  animal  in  man,  great  is  the 
degradation;  but  when  the  animal  in  man  is  servant  of  the 
soul,  undreamed  of  is  the  power  that  waits  on  both. 

"  Whatever  the  soul  lends  to  the  body,  it  should  demand 
again — with  usury. 

"  There  is  one  Spirit,  but  there  are  many  bodies.  .  .  . 
Consider  this. 

"  Grieve  not  for  the  absence  of  those  who  are  dead, 
nor  for  the  deeds  of  those  who  are  living.  The  Spirit  is 
one,  and  can  never  die,  and  the  deeds  of  man  cannot  pre- 
vail against  It — which  is  yourself. 

"  Do  you  fear  death  and  dissolution?  That  which  the 
fire  cannot  burn,  nor  the  air  corrupt,  nor  the  waters  dis- 
solve, nor  the  earth  bury  out  of  sight,  That  you  are. 

"  Be  not  disturbed  by  any  passing  event.  Shall  not  the 
Eternal  prevail  over  the  accidents  of  time?  and  are  not 
you  eternal? 

"  He  that  is  the  same  in  pain  and  pleasure,  want  and 
plenty,  success  and  failure,  honour  and  dishonour,  is  greater 
than  he  that  is  praised  by  a  nation. 

"  As  many  stars  as  there  are  in  the  limitless  sky,  so  many 
ages  of  bliss  are  there  for  the  free  spirit.  Therefore,  seek 
spiritual  freedom. 

"  Until  you  are  master  of  the  outer  senses,  the  inner 
senses  will  not  serve  you — the  inner  hearing  and  the  inner 
sight.  These  are  royal  servitors,  and  they  never  answer 
to  the  call  of  slaves. 

"  When  a  man  has  sacrificed  the  pleasures  of  sensation, 
he  lives  in  the  embrace  of  the  Eternal  Friend." 

What  subtle  power  was  there  in  the  words  of  this  man 
that  those  who  listened  should  so  hang  upon  his  breath? 
What  was  there  in  his  presence  that  when  he  ceased  to 
speak  made  men  and  women  gather  round  him  fascinated, 
held  by  an  invisible  chain,  unable  to  turn  and  go  about 
the  business  of  their  lives? 

Mary  Magnus  was  not  among  those  who  pressed  for- 
ward to  have  speech  with  him  when  he  had  ended  his  ser- 
mon. Instead,  she  turned  and  began  to  walk  rapidly 
away;  but  a  sudden  dizziness  overcame  her,  and  she  was 


THE    SON    OF    MARY   BETHEL          219 

obliged  to  hail  a  passing  cab — one  of  the  few  in  the  little 
city — and  fell  half-fainting  into  the  seclusion  of  its  musty 
interior.  At  home  again,  she  locked  the  door  of  her  bed- 
room and  gave  vent  to  her  complex  emotions  in  a  flood  of 
tears. 

"  Why  am  I  weeping?  "  she  asked  herself,  at  every  ebb 
of  the  rhythmic  tide  of  grief.  "  What  was  there  in  his 
words  or  in  himself  that  should  so  shake  the  foundations 
of  my  soul?  His  sermon  was  not  meant  for  me,  any  more 
than  for  those  others  who  listened  to  him,  holding  their 
breath.  It  was  nearly  over  when  I  came;  it  would  have 
been  the  same  had  I  remained  away — surely  it  would  have 
been  the  same." 

Certain  of  his  sayings  were  burnt  upon  her  brain: 
"  Whatever  the  soul  lends  to  the  body,  it  should  demand 
again — with  usury.  .  .  .  Until  you  are  master  of  the 
outer  senses,  the  inner  senses  will  not  serve  you — the  inner 
hearing  and  the  inner  sight.  These  are  royal  servitors, 
and  they  never  answer  to  the  call  of  slaves.  .  .  .  When 
a  man  has  sacrificed  the  pleasures  of  sensation,  he  lives  in 
the  embrace  of  the  Eternal  Friend." 

Her  tears  flowed  afresh.  The  memory  of  that  wild  let- 
ter she  had  written  to  him  from  California  ten  years  be- 
fore, came  back  to  her  with  a  sudden  rush  of  shame.  Had 
he  ever  received  it?  Oh,  of  course,  of  course!  Such  let- 
ters never  go  astray,  those  we  would  give  our  lives  to  re- 
call. But  why  should  she  wish  it;  unwritten  ?  Why  should 
she  wish  him  to  know  her  less  than  utterly, — he  who  was 
so  great,  so  kind,  so  calm! 

"  Whatever  the  mind  lends  to  the  body,  it  should  de- 
mand again — with  usury."  Oh,  she  had  lent  much  to  her 
body!  Suppose  her  soul  should  demand  it  all  again — with 
the  usurious  interest  of  devotion  to  some  transcendent 
faith?  Could  Jesse  give  her  that  faith? 

During  the  last  year  of  her  wandering,  an  old  friend 
in  Burlington  had  written  to  her  of  the  Hermit  whose  aus- 
terities and  prophecies  had  been  the  talk  of  everybody  in 
that  region,  written  to  her  of  the  promised  coming  of  some 
extraordinary  being  who  should  change  the  hearts  of  men. 
Suddenly  it  flashed  upon  her  that  Jesse  was  the  one  whose 
coming  had  been  foretold.  She  remembered  strange  say- 
ings of  his  in  early  life,  remembered  the  night  in  the  draw- 


220          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

ing-room  downstairs  when  in  a  rush  of  confidence,  freed 
by  her  sympathy  from  the  trammels  of  self-restraint,  he 
had  spoken  of  things  she  did  not  understand — of  the  lonely 
mountain  and  the  iron  face  of  the  Law,  of  the  empty  man- 
sion of  the  world's  desire,  of  the  slippery  ladder  leading  to 
real  and  immortal  joys,  of  the  adoration  of  the  people 
when  he  had  achieved  the  height.  And  she  recalled  that 
other  night  in  the  moonlit  garden,  when  he  had  said  to 
her:  "  It  is  only  the  man  who  can  live  without  love  who 
shall  show  the  world  a  better  way  of  loving." 

But  the  inevitable  other  side  of  every  thought,  the  op- 
posite pole  of  every  force,  now  claimed  its  turn  with  her. 
Why  should  she  pledge  herself,  her  warm  and  beautiful 
womanhood,  to  an  austere  ideal  which  after  all  might  be 
only  a  sublime  illusion?  The  world  was  hers  and  the 
fulness  thereof.  She  was  free,  and  rich,  and  happy.  When 
Asia  beckoned,  she  could  answer,  "  I  am  coming  " ;  to  the 
call  of  dream-garlanded  Europe  her  glad  response  could 
never  be  questioned;  the  whisper  of  the  Indian  Ocean  could 
bring  her  to  its  bosom  whenever  she  desired  its  warm 
caress.  She  had  paid  the  price  of  freedom,  the  full  market- 
price,  and  she  hugged  it  to  her  bosom.  What  madness 
to  relinquish  a  veritable  jewel  for  an  immaterial  ray  of 
light,  however  beautiful ! 

Her  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  a  tapping  on  the  door 
of  the  bedroom.  It  was  Nannie,  her  old  servant,  to  an- 
nounce that  dinner  was  served.  As  the  house  had  been 
deserted  by  its  mistress  for  three  years,  there  was  no  serv- 
ant but  the  faithful  old  woman  who  had  been  her 
mother's  housekeeper,  and  a  young  gardener,  Nannie's 
nephew. 

When  the  coffee  was  brought  on  the  table,  Mary  said: 

"  Nannie,  do  you  know  anything  about  a  young  preacher 
who  holds  meetings  in  the  park  ?  " 

;'Yes,  Miss  Mary." 

"  How  long  has  he  been  here  ?  " 

"  Only  a  few  days ;  but  everybody  is  talking  about  him. 
They  declare  that  he  is  the  fulfilment  of  the  prophecies  of 
John  the  Hermit.  He  says  strange  things,  Miss  Mary." 

"  Yes,  I  heard  him  this  afternoon.  Where  does  he 
live?" 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          221 

Nannie  mentioned  a  street  of  small  houses  on  the  edge 
of  the  town. 

"With  whom  does  he  live  there?"  her  mistress  ques- 
tioned further. 

"The  Brown  family." 

"  Thank  you.     That  is  all,  Nannie." 

But  the  old  woman  lingered  around  the  door,  straight- 
ened a  chair,  and  found  something  to  do  at  the  sideboard. 

"Well,   Nannie?" 

"I  hope  you  won't  be  offended,  Miss  Mary;  but  my 
nephew  and  I  joined  the  people  of  the  new  religion  only 
yesterday." 

"  Why  should  I  be  offended  ?  Indeed,  I  am  glad,  and 
I  hope  the  new  faith  may  make  you  both  happy." 

"  Thank  you,  Miss  Mary."  And  she  went  back  to 
the  kitchen,  wiping  her  old  eyes  on  the  corner  of  her 
apron. 

Mary  went  upstairs  to  her  father's  library  and  walked 
aimlessly  among  the  ghostly  volumes.  In  that  very  chair 
Jesse  had  sat,  eleven  years  before,  on  the  night  when  she 
brought  him  to  her  father.  Great  Herman  Magnus! 
The  daughter's  eyes  were  wet.  He  had  recognised  the 
power  and  poetry  of  Jesse  Bethel,  when  the  tree  of  that 
young  life  was  hardly  more  than  a  sapling.  He  had  never 
been  afraid,  her  triumphant  father,  of  the  weak  judgments 
of  a  misunderstanding  world.  He  had  made  his  way 
against  race  prejudice,  had  married  an  American  of  malle- 
able character  and  educated  her  to  the  duties  of  a  dignified 
position,  had  made  for  himself  a  great  place  in  the  small 
State  of  his  adoption.  But  he  had  never  understood  his 
own  daughter.  Though  she  had  given  her  confidence  to 
no  one  save  in  that  wild  letter  to  Jesse  years  before,  vague 
rumours  were  afloat  regarding  her  strange  friendships  with 
more  than  one  distinguished  man;  but  it  would  have  been 
a  bold  person  who  should  have  dared  to  repeat  those  ru- 
mours to  Herman  Magnus. 

As  she  sat  there  in  the  library,  a  telegram  was  brought 
to  her,  reading: 

"  Shall  I  come  to  Vergennes,  or  will  you  come  to  New 
York?  "V.  L." 


222          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

Taking  a  blank  from  the  messenger,  she  wrote  her 
answer : 

"  Do  not  come.    I  will  write.  M.  M." 

Then  she  went  to  her  bedroom.  And  the  night-watch- 
man, making  his  solitary  round  at  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  saw  a  light  still  burning  in  her  window. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

JESSE  and  his  companions  were  sitting  quietly  the  next 
morning  in  the  little  house  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town. 
They  were  still  comparatively  few  in  number.  The  time 
when  thousands  were  to  follow  him,  when  he  could  find 
no  solitude  nor  leisure  anywhere,  was  yet  to  come.  That 
morning  he  was  not  preaching,  nor  even  privately  instruct- 
ing his  friends.  They  sat  together  in  the  shaded  sitting- 
room  in  almost  silent  communion — nine  or  ten  men  and 
several  women,  their  faces  shining  with  the  peace  of  a  new 
faith  which  hardly  one  of  them  could  have  defined  by  any 
word  other  than  the  loved  name  of  their  leader.  Their 
real  belief  was  in  him,  and  the  things  he  taught  were  mere 
beautiful  accessories  to  the  real  and  intimate  fact  of  his 
existence  and  his  love  for  them. 

The  boyishly  affectionate  John  sat  at  the  left  of  Jesse, 
with  one  hand  clasped  in  his;  Peter  was  at  Jesse's  right, 
and  the  others  sat  around  the  room  in  a  circle,  some  of 
them  on  chairs  and  hassocks,  others  cross-legged  on  the 
floor,  as  the  furnishing  of  the  house  was  not  on  a  scale  to 
accommodate  even  so  small  a  number  of  guests.  The  eyes 
of  all  were  fixed  on  the  radiant  head  of  their  teacher,  who 
sat  opposite  the  door  on  the  other  side  of  the  room. 

Suddenly  they  saw  him  rise,  his  face  alight  with  wel- 
come. Turning  in  the  direction  of  his  glance,  they  saw 
standing  in  the  doorway  a  tall  and  beautiful  woman  robed 
in  white.  A  few  residents  recognised  her  as  the  richest 
woman  in  the  city;  the  others  knew  not  who  she  was. 

"Mary!" 

He  met  her  in  the  centre  of  the  room  and  took  both  her 
hands  in  his.  She  tried  to  speak — but  could  not.  The 
self-possessed  woman  of  the  world,  she  who  had  many  times 
stood  unembarrassed  in  the  presence  of  a  king,  was  stricken 
mute,  trembling  before  the  majesty  of  simple  faith.  She 
bowed  her  head,  and  a  tear  fell  on  the  tender  hand  which 
held  hers. 

Jesse  turned  to  John. 

223 


224          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"  Kindly  tell  them  that  I  wish  to  have  private  speech 
with  our  sister." 

When  the  door  was  closed  behind  the  last  retiring  figure, 
Jesse  led  Mary  to  the  chair  next  his  own,  the  little  low 
rocking-chair  where  John  had  sat  almost  at  his  master's 
feet  a  few  moments  before. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  come,"  he  said. 

She  bent  quickly  and  kissed  the  hand  which  still  held 
hers. 

"  I  want  to  be  your  servant,"  she  breathed,  "  your  dis- 
ciple." 

"You  are  my  sister,  whom  I  have  never  forgotten  all 
these  years." 

"  Oh,  let  me  be  one  of  the  members  of  this  brotherhood 
of  yours,  the  lowest,  the  humblest.  ...  I  who  am  so 
unworthy ! " 

"You  wish  to  learn  of  me?  That  is  well.  The  first 
lesson  I  teach  my  children  is  to  love  one  another :  with  your 
great  heart,  that  will  be  easy  for  you.  And  the  second 
thing  I  teach  them  is  the  essential  worthiness,  the  gran- 
deur of  their  own  souls.  Your  gentle  humility  will  make 
this  also  an  easy  lesson  for  you,  as  the  height  and  the 
depth  of  the  soul  are  equal.  But  beware  of  the  pride  of 
humility.  .  .  .  Of  all  the  forms  of  pride  it  is  per- 
haps the  most  dangerous,  because  the  most  subtle." 

"  Beautiful  friend,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  was  low 
with  wonder,  "  where  do  you  learn  the  wisdom  your  very 
presence  sheds  like  a  perfume?  Is  all  this  poetry  written 
on  the  pages  of  some  book  ?  " 

"  I  no  longer  read  any  book,"  he  answered,  "  save  that 
of  my  own  soul  and  the  souls  of  men  and  women." 

"  Can  you  read  my  soul,  Jesse?  " 

"  Yes,  and  more  clearly  than  most,  because  the  globe 
of  mind  through  which  the  light  of  your  spirit  shines  is 
crystal  clear.  The  minds  of  most  persons  are  clouded, 
soiled  and  partially  opaque.  How  have  you  kept  your 
mind  so  pure,  Mary?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  thought  ...  I  feared  .  .  ." 
she  stammered,  crimson  with  memories.  But  the  steady 
voice  of  the  teacher  went  on,  as  if  he  were  unconscious  of 
her  self-accusing  thoughts. 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          225 

"You  wish   to  serve   the   Spirit?    And   do  you   realise 
what  that  service  means?  " 
"  Teach  me." 

"  It  is  to  forget  the  limits  which  separate  yourself  from 
other  selves;  to  surrender  all  personal  rights  and  privileges; 
to  dwell  in  the  quiet  and  eternal  Home  of  the  Spirit 
wherever  you  may  be;  to  cry  no  longer  for  anything, 
because  in  the  Spirit  you  have  everything;  to  be  fearless 
of  danger,  because  nothing  can  harm  the  Spirit  you  know 
yourself  to  be,  nor  cast  you  out  of  the  universe  which  is 
your  eternal  country;  to  realise  that  nothing  is  really 
yours  until  you  have  given  it  away;  to  be  as  unconscious  of 
the  criticism  of  the  world  as  of  the  buzzing  of  flies  a  thou- 
sand miles  distant;  to  seek  that  wisdom  which  is  incom- 
prehensible; to  live  by  the  light  of  that  faith  which  needs 
no  proof,  because  it  is  itself  the  final  proof;  to  desire  no 
power  save  only  that  of  worshipping  the  Spirit  with  such 
intensity  as  shall  command  response;  to  adore  invisible 
Beauty  until  the  very  passion  of  your  adoration  gives  it 
form  and  colour;  to  see  in  every  material  appearance  but 
the  shadow  of  the  immaterial  Reality  which  will  never 
appear;  fearlessly  as  a  little  child  to  place  your  hand  in 
the  hand  of  heavenly  Pity,  and  go  with  her  through  all 
the  dungeons  and  evil  places  of  the  world  and  the  human 
heart,  singing  there  of  the  purity  which  is  unsoilable;  to 
realise  that  the  only  possessions  which  can  never  be  taken 
from  you  are  those  which  have  no  weight,  no  form,  no 
value  in  the  eyes  of  the  selfish  world.  .  .  .  This  is  to 
serve  the  Spirit,  Mary.  Are  you  ready?" 

'  I  am  ready." 

'  And  do  you  know  what  the  Spirit  is  ?  " 

'  I   feel — I   believe  it  is  God." 

'And  what   is  God?" 

1  Tell  me,  Jesse." 

'  God  is  the  Spirit  and  God  is  the  Self,  immortal,  limit- 
less, without  beginning  or  end,  knowing  the  universe  as 
the  singer  knows  his  song,  loving  the  universe  as  the 
mother  loves  her  babe,  as  the  lover  the  beloved.  God 
is  the  Spiritual  Sun,  giving  light  and  warmth  to  all;  God 
is  the  Spiritual  Moon  reflected  in  all  the  separate  drops 
that  are  human  souls.  The  consciousness  of  God  is  the 


226          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

consciousness  of  unity.  Would  you  realise  that  con- 
sciousness? You  who  know  the  ecstasy  of  the  union  of 
two  loving  beings,  imagine  the  inconceivable  intensity  of 
the  unity  of  millions  .  .  .  billions.  .  .  .  That 
is  the  consciousness  of  God." 

But  in  the  overpowering  greatness  and  nearness  of  the 
thought,  Mary  had  lost  consciousness. 

Bending  over  her,  with  a  potent  word  he  called  her 
spirit  back  to  the  bewildered  mind  it  had  escaped  in  the 
rush  of  cosmic  emotion.  With  a  touch  of  his  finger  on 
her  brow  he  cleared  away  the  mists  that  enveloped  her. 
Then  gently,  lovingly,  he  further  explained  the  meaning 
of  the  great  decision  she  had  made. 

"  In  giving  yourself  to  my  cause,  you  cannot  be  certain 
of  remaining  always  near  me.  It  may  be  that  I  shall 
send  you  out  alone  among  uncongenial  and  scoffing  people, 
to  testify  of  me  and  of  my  faith.  And  even  though  you 
should  remain  with  me,  it  may  be  that  you  and  I  will 
never  again  have  speech  alone  together.  I  do  not  belong 
to  myself,  but  to  the  Spirit  whose  instrument  I  am.  The 
friends  whom  you  have  known  in  the  past  will  not  follow 
you  across  the  frontiers  of  the  spiritual  country.  In  this 
democracy  of  faith  to  which  you  pledge  allegiance,  those 
who  will  be  nearest  you  are  humble  persons — ignorant 
women,  men  with  calloused  hands,  artisans,  tillers  of  the 
soil.  You  will  need  always  to  guard  your  speech,  that 
their  simplicity  may  not  misunderstand  your  complexity; 
sometimes  you  will  need  to  share  the  household  labours 
of  the  women,  that  your  flower-like  hands  may  not  be  a 
barrier  between  their  hearts  and  yours;  even  the  servants 
in  your  own  employ  will  call  you  sister,  as  they  joined 
our  brotherhood  before  you  came.  Are  you  still  sure  you 
can  be  one  with  us  ?  " 

"I  am  still  sure." 

"  So  be  it,  then.  You  are  sealed  for  ever  as  my  friend 
and  helper  in  the  spiritual  harvest-field.  Now  I  will  make 
you  known  to  your  fellow- workers." 

He  opened  the  door  and  called  them  all  back  into  the 
room — the  little  band  of  simple  and  faithful  souls  who  were 
pledged  to  him  and  to  each  other.  He  named  her  to  them 
as  "  Sister  Mary  Magnus,"  and  she  gave  her  hand  to  the 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          227 

men  in  token  of  fraternity,  and  kissed  the  women  on  the 
cheek.  A  great  wave  of  happiness  rushed  over  her.  They 
were  less  than  a  score  of  souls,  yet  they  seemed  to  have 
the  power  of  thousands,  an  overwhelming,  cumulative 
power  that  in  its  onrush  through  the  world  would  sweep 
caste,  selfishness  and  falsehood  before  it  like  barriers  of 
sand. 

With  a  voice  which  thrilled  the  hearts  of  all  these 
new-found  friends,  Mary  spoke  to  them  of  a  plan  which 
had  been  growing  in  her  mind  since  the  night  before. 

"  This  little  house,"  she  said,  "  pleasant  and  homelike 
though  it  seems,  is  too  small  to  hold  so  large  a  company. 
Now  I  have  a  great  empty  house  with  room  enough  for 
everyone.  Will  you  not  all  come  and  live  with  me  ?  " 

This  was  more  than  even  Jesse  had  expected  of  the  daugh- 
ter of  Herman  Magnus. 

"  Those  of  us  who  have  no  home  in  Vergennes,"  he 
said,  "  will  go  to  live  in  our  sister's  house  for  the  short 
time  we  can  remain  in  this  city,  and  those  who  have  homes 
of  their  own  will  be  welcome  there  at  any  time  of  the  day 
or  evening." 

So  it  was  settled.  And  within  an  hour  the  gossip  of 
Vergennes  was  set  a-buzzing  by  the  sight  of  Mary  Magnus 
walking  through  the  main  street  of  the  town  side  by  side 
with  the  extraordinary  gold-haired  preacher  of  new  doc- 
trines, while  behind  them  came  a  band  of  strange-looking 
persons  of  both  sexes  who,  judging  from  the  rapt  look  on 
their  faces,  were  all  oblivious  of  the  curious  eyes  which  fol- 
lowed them. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

THE  whole  city  came  out  that  afternoon  to  listen  to 
Jesse's  sermon  in  the  park.  Many  who  would  have  looked 
askance  at  the  new  teacher  with  headquarters  in  the  little 
home  of  the  Browns  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  consid- 
ered him  worthy  of  their  interest  when  housed  in  the  home 
of  the  dead  banker.  So  hungry  is  the  world  for  spiritual 
food — when  offered  on  a  silver  dish!  But  though  Mary 
Magnus  knew  the  importance  of  accessories,  she  dared  not 
hint  to  Jesse  any  change  in  the  manner  of  his  ministry;  she 
would  as  soon  have  offered  advice  to  a  king. 

After  the  sermon,  it  seemed  to  her  that  half  the  popula- 
tion of  the  city  followed  Jesse  back  to  her  house.  So  great 
was  the  crowd  that  he  led  them  around  the  house  into  the 
garden. 

"  What  can  they  expect  of  him  more  than  he  has  already 
given  them  ?  "  the  bewildered  Mary  asked  of  John,  who 
was  standing  by  her  side. 

"  You  will  see,"  he  answered,  with  the  ecstatic  look 
which  shone  so  often  in  his  eyes. 

Jesse  sat  in  large  garden-chair  under  a  spreading  elm- 
tree,  and  the  people  gathered  round,  gazing  at  him  and 
asking  him  questions.  He  had  spoken  that  afternoon  of 
the  limitless  power  of  the  Spirit,  of  the  stupendous  potency 
of  faith. 

"  Even  the  maladies  of  the  body  are  subject  to  the 
awakened  soul,"  he  said  to  them  now.  "  Is  there  anyone 
among  you  who  is  sick?  " 

An  old  man  hobbled  forward,  leaning  on  a  staff. 

"  I  have  been  bent  with  rheumatism  for  ten  years,"  he 
said,  stretching  out  his  gnarled  and  yellow  arms.  "  Cure 
me,  and  I  will  believe." 

"  You  must  first  believe,  and  then  you  will  be  cured." 

"  I  believe  in  you"  the  old  man  answered,  with  vehe- 
mence. "  Is  that  enough  ?  " 

"That  is  enough." 

228 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          229 

Gently  as  a  mother  touches  an  ailing  child,  Jesse  passed 
his  hands  over  the  drawn  and  painful  body  of  the  grand- 
sire,  whose  son  and  daughter  stood  beside  him,  watching. 
They  saw  a  light  break  gradually  over  the  withered 
countenance,  the  knotted  arms  relaxed,  the  staff  dropped 
to  the  ground. 

"It's  gone,  it's  gone!"  he  cried,  "the  pain — I  feel  it 
no  more." 

"  Go  home,"  said  Jesse,  "  and  pray  to  the  Spirit,  to 
God,  that  you  may  never  fall  into  unbelief." 

Then  came  another,  a  middle-aged  woman,  pale  and 
weak  from  some  obscure  malady.  After  he  had  laid  his 
hands  upon  her,  she  cried  joyously  to  the  women  around 
her  that  she  was  cured. 

A  child  with  a  sad,  pinched  ;face,  who  was  led  by  his 
mother  to  the  side  of  the  beautiful  stranger  and  leaned 
for  a  time  in  loving  converse  against  his  knee,  went  away 
joyously  to  play  with  his  little  comrades,  as  he  had  never 
done  before  in  all  his  seven  painful  years  of  life. 

Then  Jesse  arose  from  his  chair,  and  dismissing  the  crowd 
with  a  gentle  benediction,  passed  from  their  sight  into  the 
house.  Slowly  the  people  dispersed,  some  talking  together 
in  little  groups,  others  silent  and  awestricken  after  the 
things  which  they  had  seen  and  heard. 

That  night  and  for  many  days  the  strange  words  and 
strange  cures  of  Jesse  Bethel  were  the  sole  subject  of  dis- 
cussion in  the  little  city.  When  two  or  three  men  stood 
together  on  the  corner  of  the  street,  the  passer-by  was  sure 
to  hear  one  name;  when  women  went  to  visit  one  another, 
it  was  of  him  they  spoke ;  even  the  children  played  at 
preaching  and  healing  in  their  little  games.  Some  de- 
clared the  things  which  he  had  done  to  be  incredible;  others 
were  aggressive  in  proclaiming  that  they  had  seen  with 
their  own  eyes  the  old  victim  of  rheumatism  throw  aside 
his  staff  and  walk  upright,  and  seen  the  pale  child  grow 
rosy  under  the  touch  of  the  marvellous  man.  And  so  the 
wonder  grew.  Already  it  was  beginning  to  pass  from 
mouth  to  mouth  that  Jesse  was  the  one  whose  coming  the 
Hermit  had  foretold.  Everybody  in  that  region  had  heard 
of  the  prophecies  concerning  a  mysterious  being  who  should 
transform  the  world,  and  a  few  of  the  dwellers  in  Ver- 


230          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

gennes  had  seen  and  heard  the  austere  John  in  Burlington 
or  elsewhere. 

In  the  house  of  Mary  Magnus  everything  was  changed. 
The  wife  of  the  lumberman  in  whose  home  Jesse  had  rested 
after  his  sojourn  on  the  mountain,  helped  old  Nannie  in 
the  preparation  and  service  of  the  meals,  while  two  of  the 
other  women  kept  the  large  house  in  order.  The  room 
once  occupied  by  Herman  Magnus  was  given  up  to  Jesse's 
exclusive  use,  and  Mary  guarded  his  solitude  in  those  rare 
hours  when  he  withdrew  himself  from  those  who  hung  upon 
his  words. 

During  the  first  evening  there  Jesse  had  written  a  long 
letter  to  his  mother,  giving  her  as  clear  an  understanding  as 
possible  of  what  he  was  doing.  The  sojourn  on  the  moun- 
tain he  merely  mentioned;  but  of  the  preaching  and  healing 
which  had  followed  his  period  of  solitude  he  wrote  much. 
At  the  end,  after  referring  to  a  letter  of  hers  which  Peter 
brought  up  to  him  from  Capronville  a  few  days  before,  and 
in  which  the  mother  had  expressed  her  sadness  that  the 
peaceful  days  which  they  had  spent  together  were  now  to 
be  no  more,  Jesse  said: 

"  Why  mourn  for  what  is  past?  Do  you  weep  that 
last  night's  sunset  was  so  beautiful?  Turn  to  the  dawn: 
it  may  be  that  you  will  not  find  it  void  of  beauty." 

So  many  were  the  guests  in  Mary's  house  that  she  even 
shared  her  own  room  with  one  of  the  young  women,  a 
pale  and  ecstatic  girl  who  had  been  a  teacher  in  a  neighbour- 
ing district  school;  but  who,  having  heard  the  first  sermon 
of  the  new  teacher,  had  abandoned  home  and  profession  to 
remain  near  the  fountain  of  her  inspiration.  Anna  Martin 
was  her  name,  and  Mary  had  been  interested  in  her  from 
the  first  day.  She  had  seen  how  the  eyes  of  the  bashful 
Andrew  of  Capronville  followed  every  movement  of  the 
girl;  how  sometimes,  even  when  Jesse  was  speaking,  the 
young  man's  thoughts  seemed  busy  with  some  blissful  dream 
which  had  no  relation  to  the  messenger  of  the  Spirit.  But 
something  even  more  interesting  to  Mary  than  a  love-story 
was  soon  to  show  her  the  pale  girl's  importance  in  their 
religious  life. 

On  the  second  evening  after  Anna  came,  Mary  found 
her  sitting  alone  in  the  twilight  of  their  chamber,  writing 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          231 

with  a  pencil  on  a  scrap  of  paper  and  whispering  some- 
thing over  to  herself. 

"Do   I   disturb  you,   Anna?" 

The  girl  started,  as  if  surprised  in  some  guilty  secret; 
she  blushed  and  stammered — then  threw  her  arms  about 
Mary  in  utter  abandon  of  confidence. 

"  Oh!  do  you  think  he  would  be  pleased — the  Master?" 

"  Be  pleased  with  what,  dear  child  ?  " 

Anna  held  out  the  paper,  crumpled  from  the  nervous 
pressure  of  her  hand.  "  Read  it,"  she  said,  "  and  tell  me 
if  I  may  show  it  to  him." 

Mary  went  over  to  the  window,  for  the  waning  light 
was  dim.  The  writing  was  in  the  form  of  verse,  and  after 
the  first  few  lines  she  cried,  "  Oh,  Anna!  "  then  read 
rapidly  to  the  end. 

"  You  like  it  ?  "  the  girl  asked  timidly,  as  Mary  raised 
her  eyes  from  the  paper. 

"  Yes,  and  you  know  I  have  knowledge  of  such  things. 
Some  of  the  most  famous  poets  in  the  world  are  friends 
of  mine."  She  gazed  out  of  the  window,  her  eyes  dreamy 
with  reminiscences;  then  she  asked: 

"Where  did  you  learn  to  write  technically  good  verse? 
Did  you  ever  know  a  poet?  " 

"  Oh,  no !  "     Anna  was  breathless  at  the  very  idea. 

"  Have  you  ever  been  away  to  school  anywhere?" 

"Only  to  the  high  school  in  Greenburg." 

"  That  is  hardly  an  academy  of  poetry,"  Mary  answered, 
smiling,  "  though  I  have  heard  it  spoken  of  as  a  good 
school,  of  its  kind.  But  you  surprise  me,  child!  Have  you 
written  any  other  things  like  this?" 

"  A  few." 

"  You  know  I'm  something  of  a  musician,"  Mary  went 
on.  "  It's  no  special  credit  to  me,  Anna,  for  I've  had  some 
of  the  best  teachers  in  Europe.  I  can  sing  a  little,  as  well 
as  play  the  piano,  and  I  know  how  to  write  music,  though 
I  don't  call  myself  a  composer — not  after  meeting  Grieg 
and  Debussy." 

Anna  had  never  heard  of  Grieg  or  of  Debussy;  but 
the  names  had  a  foreign  and  wonderful  sound.  She  was 
half-fainting  with  joy  when  Mary  said: 

"  I  am  going  to  make  a  song  of  this." 


232          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

Having  learned  that  Jesse  and  the  others  were  in  the 
garden,  Mary  went  down  to  the  drawing-room  and  closed 
the  doors.  Then,  for  an  hour  or  two,  sprays  and  ripples 
of  music  floated  upon  the  evening  air.  About  ten  o'clock 
she  went  out  to  the  garden  and  called  them  all  into  the  house. 
The  eyes  of  Jesse  were  large  and  soft,  for  he  felt  the  intan- 
gible presence  of  some  act  of  love  which  was  about  to  mani- 
fest its  beauty.  Anna  was  pale,  but  in  her  eyes  shone  a 
light  which  seemed  to  the  watchful  Andrew  like  the  beam 
of  the  evening  star. 

When  the  others  were  all  seated,  Mary  stood  facing 
them,  with  one  hand  on  the  top  of  the  grand  piano. 

"There  is  only  one  thing  our  beautiful  life  has  lacked," 
she  said,  "  and  that  is — songs  of  our  very  own,  songs  to 
express  our  faith,  our  love,  our  joy  in  the  Master  and  in 
each  other.  Sister  Anna  Martin  and  I  " — here  she  made 
a  loving  little  gesture  in  the  girl's  direction,  and  the  heart 
of  Andrew  beat  fast — "  Sister  Anna  Martin  and  I  have 
made  a  song  together  and  I  will  now  sing  it  to  you."  Then 
Mary  sat  down  at  the  piano,  and  sang: 

"  When  our  mild-eyed  Master  came 

From  the  mountains  of  the  soul, 
In  his  heart  God's  secret  name, 

Round  his  head  Love's  aureole, 
We  believed  the  Dawn  had  taken 

Form  of  man  for  our  surprise, 
And  our  dreaming  souls  were  shaken 

With  the  signal  of  his  eyes. 

"Roses  which  no  time  shall  fade 

He  has  given  us  to  keep, 
And  the  world  his  words  have  made 

Lovely  as  the  hills  of  sleep. 
Now,  revealed  to  one  another, 

We  are  one  since   life  began, 
And  the  sacred  name  of  brother 

We  may  breathe  to  every  man. 

"We  have  found  the  faith  that  gives 

Mountain   air  for  every  breath, 

Fragrant  bread  for  each  that  lives. 

And  behind  the  doors  of  death 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          233 

Lurks  no  dread  to  make  us  fear  it, 
For  our  souls  have  found  the  clime 

Where  the  lilies  of  the  Spirit 
Blossom  in  the  winter-time." 

With  the  tears  streaming  from  his  eyes,  Jesse  came  for- 
ward and  clasped  both  the  singer  and  the  poet  to  his  melting 
heart. 

"  Oh,  my  children !  "  he  said,  softly,  "  Love  is  the  mas- 
ter-musician, the  master-poet;  and  the  song  which  gushes 
from  the  heart  of  even  a  little  child  will  find  the  child- 
heart  of  the  listening  world.  You  two  shall  make  songs 
of  faith  together,  and  sing  them  to  the  multitudes  that 
gather  to  hear  my  sermons;  and  after  you  have  melted  the 
hard  hearts  of  those  thousands  with  your  song,  I  will  turn 
them  to  pure  gold  by  the  alchemy  of  the  Spirit." 

After  a  little  while  he  called  Mary  out  into  the  dining- 
room,  that  he  might  have  speech  alone  with  her. 

"  Dear  sister  with  the  thrush's  voice,"  he  said,  "  I  ask 
you  to  arrange  that  song  so  that  the  others  may  also  sing 
it,  men  and  women,  and  to  teach  it  to  them  with  loving 
patience." 

"  I  will  do  as  you  say,"  she  answered. 

"  In  the  choir  of  the  Spiritual  Kingdom,"  Jesse  went  on, 
"  each  one  is  a  lone  singer;  but  the  song  of  each  is  blended 
with  the  song  of  all  the  others,  forming  the  universal  har- 
mony. Your  voice  will  carry  its  clearness  over  the  other 
voices  which  follow  yours,  even  as  your  faith,  which  is 
followed  by  the  men  and  women  of  your  city,  soars  high 
above  them  all." 

That  was  his  way  of  thanking  her  for  the  help  she  had 
given  to  his  mission  at  its  beginning.  Then  he  led  her 
back  to  the  drawing-room,  where  the  others  waited  for 
them. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

JESSE  remained  only  a  few  days  longer  in  Vergennes,  for 
it  was  not  his  plan  to  confine  his  teaching  to  that  region. 
He  would  return  to  Capronville;  but  on  the  way  he  would 
revisit  the  place  where  he  was  born,  the  unimportant  farm- 
ing section  which  would  ever  be  for  him  the  most  beautiful 
spot  on  earth,  the  green  valley  consecrated  by  first  mem- 
ories, and  watched  over  for  ever  by  the  blue  old  Thunder 
Mountain.  How  would  they  receive  him — those  stolid, 
unimaginative  people  who  had  known  him  as  a  child  ?  What 
would  be  their  interpretation  of  the  motives  of  his  life? 
He  would  not  take  with  him  to  Nashburgh  the  whole  of 
his  ever-growing  band  of  personal  followers,  for  the  size 
of  his  cousin's  house  was  inadequate  for  such  a  large  num- 
ber of  guests,  and  he  could  not  rely  on  the  hospitality  of 
the  neighbours.  Only  Peter  and  Andrew  and  John  would 
he  take  to  Jim  Bethel's,  and  Mary  should  go  to  her  cousin 
Susie's  house  with  Anna  Martin.  The  others  he  would 
send  on  before  him  to  Capronville,  to  spread  the  news  of 
his  coming.  Judson  Carey  should  be  entrusted  with  the 
preparation  for  his  first  meeting  in  that  town,  a  mission 
the  dignity  of  which  would  reconcile  the  man  to  his  being 
omitted  from  the  group  going  to  Nashburgh. 

Mary  had  worked  wonders  with  their  choir.  She  was 
surprised  to  find  that  John  had  a  clear  tenor  voice  which 
under  proper  training  might  even  have  given  him  a  liveli- 
hood. Anna  Martin  made  a  passable  contralto,  though 
hers  was  not  what  Mary  called  a  voice;  and  there  was 
much  happy  laughter  while  they  taught  the  blushing  An- 
drew to  carry  the  bass.  Those  were  care-free  and  never- 
to-be-forgotten  days,  and  in  the  sterner  times  which  fol- 
lowed they  often  looked  back  at  them  with  wistful  tears. 

The  last  few  days  in  Vergennes  passed  by,  and  Jesse  had 
not  asked  Mary  to  sing  with  her  new  choir  at  his  meetings 
in  the  park.  Their  singing  was  for  the  future  in  other 

234 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          235 

places,  and  the  delicacy  which  restrained  Jesse  from  asking 
Mary  to  sing  in  the  streets  of  her  native  city  was  one  more 
link  in  the  chain  binding  her  to  him.  A  nature  less  fine- 
fibred  than  his  would  have  considered  it  a  personal  triumph 
to  have  overcome  her  natural  reluctance,  would  have  made 
of  it  a  test  of  her  devotion. 

"How  considerate  you  are  of  me!  "  she  said  to  him  on 
the  day  before  they  were  to  start  for  Nashburgh.  "  Do 
you  want  me  to  sing  Anna's  song  with  our  choir  in  the 
park  this  afternoon  ?  " 

"  No." 

He  sat  looking  at  her  in  silence  for  a  time,  and  then  he 
said:  "If  I  really  doubted  your  willingness  to  serve  my 
mission,  even  at  the  sacrifice  of  your  personal  feelings,  I 
should  have  asked  that  very  thing  of  you.  There  are  two 
kinds  of  devoted  disciples,  Mary:  those  who  need  to  be 
tried  and  tested,  and  those  who  need  only  to  be  trusted. 
You  are  among  the  latter." 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  did  not  ask  me  to  do  it!  "  she  cried 
impulsively. 

"  Yes,  I  know,  dear  sister.  But  I  shall  ask  you  to  sing 
at  my  meetings  in  all  the  other  places  where  you  go  with 
me." 

"Oh,  gladly  will  I!" 

"  You  may  begin  at  Nashburgh,  in  the  little  church 
where  I  first  heard  the  preaching  of  the  Word.  But," 
and  his  voice  grew  low  and  sad,  "  I  cannot  promise  that  we 
shall  be  received  there  in  a  manner  worthy  of  our  high 
calling." 

"  I  remember  them  so  well,"  she  said,  "  the  heavy- 
footed  women  and  the  sharp-eyed  men.  How  could  they 
understand  one  like  you?" 

"  And  yet  I  love  them  so !  "  he  whispered.  "  They  were 
my  first  companions;  we  drank  together  of  the  same  cool 
spring,  played  together  the  same  childish  games.  There  is 
a  boy  down  there  for  whose  sake  I  did  the  only  action 
which  ever  troubled  my  conscience.  Is  not  that  a  tie?  " 

Mary's  eyes  were  large  and  soft,  but  she  made  no 
answer. 

During  his  last  sermon  in  Vergennes  Jesse  seemed  more 


236          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

than  ever  to  be  inspired.  His  listeners  gazed  at  him  en- 
tranced, and  many  who  had  not  really  accepted  his  teach- 
ings wondered  if,  after  all,  there  might  not  be  something 
beyond  our  common  humanity  in  this  flaming  man  around 
whose  form,  as  around  metal  heated  in  the  sun-rays,  the 
very  light  seemed  to  dance  and  vibrate.  He  spoke  of  the 
unrealised  powers  of  the  human  being,  and  toward  the 
end  of  his  sermon  he  cried  to  them: 

"  Your  soul  is  a  bird  whose  wings  are  tied  that  it  cannot 
fly,  whose  tongue  is  stopped  that  it  cannot  sing. 

"  He  who  refuses  to  see  that  there  is  something  beyond 
and  behind  this  self  of  matter,  of  flesh  and  sinew,  is  like 
a  man  imprisoned  in  a  cell  bolted  on  the  inside,  a  prisoner 
who  could  be  free  by  merely  lifting  his  hand  to  the  latch, 
and  who  not  only  refuses  to  lift  the  hand,  but  denies  that 
there  is  any  such  thing  as  freedom. 

"Only  he  who  desires  the  unattainable  shall  know  the 
perfect  satisfaction  of  achievement. 

"  The  highest  spiritual  ecstasy  you  can  feel  in  your 
present  state  is  only  a  hint  of  the  Reality  which  lies  be- 
yond. Should  you  fully  realise  it  now,  you  would  cease 
to  identify  yourself  with  the  man  of  flesh. 

"  I  may  suggest,  but  cannot  describe,  the  joy  of  the  free 
soul.  Can  you  describe  a  rose  to  a  man  born  blind?  or 
can  a  maiden  realise  the  rapture  of  maternity? 

"You  would  find  the  Spirit — would  find  God?  Where 
there  is  neither  light  nor  darkness,  neither  man  nor  woman, 
neither  east  nor  west,  neither  above  nor  below,  neither  hope 
nor  fear,  there  He  is. 

"  But  he  who  sees  God  in  all  beings,  and  all  beings  in 
God,  has  also  found  the  Spirit. 

"  And  he  who  shall  fully  realise  that  God  is  everywhere, 
shall  dwell  in  God  wherever  he  may  be. 

"  Man's  only  true  home  is  in  his  own  heart,  and  he  car- 
ries it  inside  him,  even  as  a  tortoise  carries  his  home  out- 
side. 

"  He  who  seeks  the  supreme  abode  of  the  Spirit  shall 
find  it  in  the  hearts  of  men  and  in  his  own  heart. 

"Does  the  way  seem  hard  to  you,  and  the  goal  far  off? 
How  much  harder  must  the  way  seem  to  those  who  do  not 
know  there  is  a  goal? 

"  Does  the  night  seem  long  to  you,  and  the  sunrise  slow 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          237 

in  coming?  Blind  men  there  are  whose  night  is  a  genera- 
tion long,  and  who  do  not  even  watch  for  the  sunrise. 

"  Give  some  men  wings,  and  they  would  have  only  an 
added  burden  on  the  back,  instead  of  the  means  of  flight. 

"  He  who  has  faith  in  the  Spirit  will  not  be  discouraged 
by  the  shifting  appearances  of  matter. 

"  In  you  is  the  God  who  shall  answer  your  own  prayer. 

"  He  who  has  really  found  himself  has  discovered  a 
fountain  from  which  all  other  men  my  drink. 

"  Do  you  seem  to  yourself  to  go  backward  ?  Sometimes 
the  soul  grows  most  when  the  mind  is  unconscious  of  its 
growing. 

"  But  having  once  turned  your  face  toward  the  Spirit 
and  having  started  thither,  though  you  afterward  turn  in 
some  other  direction,  you  will  seem  to  yourself  to  be  going 
away  from  home. 

"  First  make  clean  the  mind,  for  the  mind  is  the  vehicle 
of  the  soul,  the  soul  is  the  vehicle  of  the  spirit,  and  the 
spirit  is  the  vehicle  of  That  which  you  are  and  which 
God  is. 

"  Will  you  not  enter  into  your  divine  inheritance  ?  O 
you  who  are  one  with  That  which  is  both  within  and 
without  matter;  That  which  shall  never  taste  of  death; 
That  which  is  more  powerful  than  electricity,  more  en- 
during than  the  stars,  more  loving  than  the  sun  which 
warms  the  earth ;  That  which  germinates  in  the  corn,  which 
sighs  in  the  wind,  which  smiles  in  the  sunlight;  That 
which  the  mother  feels  in  the  heartbeat  of  her  child,  which 
the  lover  sees  in  the  eyes  of  the  beloved,  which  the  dying 
soldier  hears  in  the  bugles  of  victory;  That  which  man 
calls  God!" 

The  exaltation  of  his  vision  on  the  mountain  was  with 
him  that  afternoon,  and  all  who  came  within  the  radius 
of  his  presence  were  lifted  out  of  themselves.  The  wild- 
est enthusiasm  was  loosed  among  them;  the  self-restraint 
of  their  northern  blood  was  melted  in  the  spiritual  fire 
emanating  from  him,  and  the  more  emotional  ones  aban- 
doned themselves  to  the  waves  of  feeling  that  surged  and 
rocked  around  this  being  who  seemed  to  be  of  another 
world  than  theirs.  Many  men  and  women  he  healed  that 
afternoon  of  their  diseases,  for  the  faith  he  had  stirred 
in  them  performed  the  good  work  almost  of  itself. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

THEY  left  the  train  at  the  station  north  of  Nashburgh, 
Jesse  and  the  five  whom  he  had  selected  as  companions 
on  this  journey  to  his  native  valley.  It  was  his  wish  that 
they  should  arrive  unheralded  at  the  house  of  his  cousin, 
Jim  Bethel.  As  that  house  lay  on  the  border  of  Nash- 
burgh, midway  between  the  two  railway-stations,  by  leav- 
ing the  train  at  Dellville  they  avoided  passing  the  houses 
of  the  neighbours.  The  station  was  two  miles  from  their 
destination,  and  Jesse  asked  the  two  women  if  they  could 
walk  that  distance  along  the  sandy  country  road. 

"  I  have  climbed  the  Matterhorn,"  was  Mary's  con- 
vincing answer. 

Anna  was  a  farmer's  daughter,  and  Vermont  farmers' 
daughters  never  walk;  but  she  declared  her  willingness  to 
try. 

"  If  you  grow  weary  by  the  way, '  said  Jesse,  "  you  may 
lean  on  Andrew." 

O  potent  words,  spoken  half  playfully!  O  understand- 
ing heart  of  their  master!  The  young  man  and  the  girl 
blushed  deeply  and  took  opposite  sides  of  the  road  without 
daring  to  look  at  each  other;  but  in  the  soul  of  each  the 
bird  of  joy  sang  as  never  sang  the  hermit-thrush,  for  they 
interpreted  his  message  to  their  hearts  as  meaning  that  they 
might  dream  of  one  another  without  disloyalty  to  the 
cause  for  which  they  would  even  now  have  sacrificed  all 
hope  of  earthly  happiness.  And  they  were  not  misled  in 
their  belief.  For  where  should  bloom  the  white  rose  of 
virgin  love,  if  not  in  the  garden  watched  over  by  him  who 
loved  the  whole  world  better  than  any  lesser  being  could 
love  the  one  supreme  and  chosen  companion  of  his  soul? 
But  he  had  yet  to  teach  them  the  master-lesson  of  love, 
the  lesson  of  voluntary  postponement,  for  the  service  of 
the  Ideal. 

John  was  like  a  child  in  his  joy  at  visiting  the  place  of 
Jesse's  birth. 

238 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          239 

"Do  we  pass  your  old  home  on  this  road?"  he  asked, 
with  breathless  interest. 

"  No,  I  was  born  in  a  house  on  the  West  Road ;  my 
cousin  lives  at  the  very  edge  of  Nashburgh,  on  the  other 
side.  But  to-morrow  morning  I  will  take  all  of  you  to 
stand  in  the  room  where  the  light  first  shone  upon  my 
face;  to  touch  the  rose-bushes  in  whose  moon-shadow  I 
believed  that  I  saw  fairies;  to  sit  under  the  old  lightning- 
scarred  pine-tree  which  was  the  comfort-whispering  con- 
fidant of  the  secret  griefs  of  my  child-heart.  You  shall 
drink  the  water  from  the  old  well  in  whose  black  deeps 
the  mystery  of  reflected  things  first  roused  my  mind  to 
wonder;  you  shall  enter  the  old  barn  in  whose  resounding 
interior  I  first  addressed  imaginary  multitudes  on  the  newly- 
discovered  problems  of  life  and  death." 

"  The  old  barn  will  be  more  wonderful  to  me  than  the 
Colosseum,"  John  said,  "  and  maybe  it  will  be  the  same 
to  generations  yet  unborn." 

"  Before  that  time,"  Jesse  answered,  "  the  hand  of  thrift 
will  have  used  the  old  timbers  for  fire-wood;  the  very 
stones  of  its  foundation  will  go  to  make  a  sheep-barn  for 
the  man  who  hates  me,  the  man  who  now  owns  the  place." 

"  How  can  you  possibly  know  that?  "  asked  Peter;  then, 
correcting  himself,  he  added,  "  Pardon  me,  Master,  I  be- 
lieve that  you  know  all  things." 

"  Return  to  Nashburgh  a  few  years  nence,  Peter,  and 
behold  the  verification  of  this  prophecy." 

"  Shall  you  be  with  me,  when  I  return  ?  " 

"  I  shall  always  -be  with  you,  whether  visibly  or  invisi- 
bly." His  eyes  had  suddenly  become  wide  and  grave,  and 
all  the  bright  colour  had  gone  out  of  his  face. 

"What  is  it,  Master?"  they  asked,  with  anxious  looks. 

"  It  is  nothing  that  need  trouble  you  now,"  he  replied. 
"  The  power  to  behold  the  future  by  a  clearer  light  than 
that  of  ordinary  reason  is  a  boon  which  does  not  always 
bring  happiness  to  man.  But  let  us  talk  of  the  present.  Is 
it  not  a  joy  for  us,  who  love  each  other  with  a  pure  and 
perfect  love,  to  walk  together  along  this  beautiful  road; 
to  behold  in  the  distance  the  blue  mountains  which  spoke 
to  my  soul  as  a  child?  And  is  it  not  fitting  that  I  should 
re-enter  the  neighbourhood  of  my  birth  on  foot,  followed 


240          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

by  my  faithful  friends?  It  is  thus  that  pilgrims  visit  holy 
places." 

A  little  farther  along  the  road,  John,  who  was  walking 
arm  in  arm  with  Jesse,  slackened  his  pace  that  they  might 
fall  behind  the  others. 

"  You  wish  to  have  private  speech  with  me.  Is  it  not 
so,  John?" 

"  Yes,  Master,  to  ask  a  question.     May  I  ?  " 

"  Anything  you  will." 

"  It  is  about  Judson.     Why  is  he  not  with  us  ?  " 

"  Because  I  gave  him  an  important  mission,  to  prepare 
the  way  for  us  to  return  to  Capronville." 

"  Is  that  the  only  reason  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  the  only  reason.  When  you  were  a  little  one 
at  school  they  gave  you  simple  lessons  in  addition  and  sub- 
traction, not  complicated  problems  in  geometry  which  would 
have  puzzled  and  discouraged  you.  Our  brother  Judson 
is  still  a  little  one,  so  I  give  him  simple  lessons  in  addition 
and  subtraction;  the  geometrical  problems  of  my  reception 
by  my  fellow  townsmen  might  puzzle  and  discourage  him." 

"  How  wise  you  are!     But  Judson  was  grieved." 

"  His  grief  will  turn  to  joy  when  I  thank  him  for  the 
labours  he  will  faithfully  perform.  I  have  already  ob- 
served his  skill  in  addition;  he  brought  many  strangers  to 
our  meetings  in  Vergennes.  But  I  charge  you  not  to  repeat 
to  anyone  what  I  have  said  to  you.  Now  you  may  call  to 
the  others  to  wait  for  us;  and  when  we  rejoin  them,  re- 
move your  arm  from  mine,  that  I  may  walk  side  by  side 
with  Peter  for  a  while.  The  tenderest  mutual  love  has 
often  need  to  borrow  from  its  provident  brother — wisdom." 

"  I  understand,"  John  whispered,  with  a  quick  pressure 
of  Jesse's  arm  as  he  relinquished  it.  "The  price  of  the 
king's  favour  may  be  the  envy  of  the  court." 

"  And  he  who  wins  the  favour  of  the  Spirit  must  share 
it  freely  with  all  the  world.  You  may  be  nearer  to  me 
when  I  lean  upon  the  arm  of  Peter  than  when  you  lean  on 
mine." 

Over  the  trees  they  saw  smoke  rising  from  a  chimney, 
and  by  the  smile  which  lighted  Jesse's  face  the  five  knew 
that  they  were  nearing  his  cousin's  house.  They  paused  a 
moment  before  an  open  gate,  and  down  the  path  from  the 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          241 

long  white  dwelling  came  a  collie  dog,  wagging  a  shy 
and  friendly  tail.  There  was  no  person  in  sight. 

"  Shall  Anna  and  I  go  on  to  Susie's  house  now?  "  Mary 
asked,  glancing  at  a  brown  cottage  a  few  rods  further 
along  the  road. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Jesse,  after  a  moment's  thought,  "  and  I 
will  send  Andrew  over  after  you  when  Jim's  wife  has 
recovered  from  the  surprise  of  our  arrival." 

There  was  in  his  voice  a  boyish  eagerness  which  made 
the  old  forbidden  pain  surge  back  to  Mary's  heart.  When 
the  sublime  master  of  her  reverence  displayed  his  simpler 
and  more  human  qualities,  the  task  she  had  set  herself 
became  a  giant's  labour;  the  path  of  her  discipleship  wound 
steeply  up  the  rocky  hill,  of  whose  sharp  acclivity  one  being 
only  knew  besides  herself,  and  of  which  no  being  ever 
spoke. 

Followed  by  Peter,  John  and  Andrew,  and  preceded  by 
the  friendly,  leaping  dog,  Jesse  went  up  the  path  to  his 
cousin's  house  and  rapped  on  the  casing  of  the  open  door. 
There  was  a  sound  of  steps  in  the  room  at  the  end  of  the 
passage,  an  exchange  of  muffled  words;  then  a  tall  man 
in  the  working-garments  of  a  farmer  appeared  at  the  hos- 
pitably inviting  door.  A  silent  look,  a  start  of  recognition, 
and  the  two  loyal  kinsmen  clasped  hands  across  the  years. 

"Jesse!     Is  it  really  you?" 

"  Yes,  it  is  really  I,  and  I  have  brought  three  friends 
with  me."  He  mentioned  them  by  their  full  names,  and 
the  welcome  they  received  was  genuine.  In  another  mo- 
ment they  were  all  in  the  cool  grey  sitting-room,  and 
Jim's  wife  was  adding  her  shy  welcome  to  the  noisier 
repetition  of  her  husband's. 

"We've  heard  of  your  preaching  up  north,"  Jim  de- 
clared, in  his  hoarse,  kindly  voice.  "  Some  of  the  train- 
men told  the  station-master  here,  and  everybody  knows 
about  it.  They  do  say,  too,  that  you've  been  curing  sick 
folks  by  only  touching  them.  I  wouldn't  have  believed  it 
if  I  hadn't  recalled  what  you  did  to  that  wild  horse  of 
Taylor's  years  ago.  Do  you  remember,  Jesse  ?  " 

"  I  remember." 

"And  it's  all  true?" 

"  It  is  all  true,  Jim." 


242          THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL 

Then  the  steadfast,  clear-eyed  Peter,  whose  words  even 
a  stranger  had  never  disbelieved,  testified  to  his  master's 
kinsman  of  the  extraordinary  things  which  he  had  seen 
and  heard.  He  told  of  their  first  journey  from  Capron- 
ville  to  Burlington,  of  their  baptism  by  the  Hermit  and 
of  the  phophet's  words  regarding  Jesse,  of  the  mysterious 
forty  days  upon  the  mountain,  of  Jesse's  return  to  Bur- 
lington with  the  glory  of  heaven  in  his  face,  of  the  preach- 
ing in  Vergennes,  the  triumph,  the  multitudes,  the  mirac- 
ulous cures. 

"  And  we  have  left  our  business  and  our  homes  to  fol- 
low him,"  declared  Peter,  "  because  he  has  the  word  of 
spiritual  truth  which  lifts  our  hearts." 

The  eyes  of  the  listening  man  and  woman  grew  wider 
during  this  recital  of  faith  in  mighty  works.  Could  such 
things  be?  Could  one  whom  they  had  known  as  a  child 
so  elevate  himself?  Granted  that  a  man  might  somewhere 
in  the  world  perform  these  wonders;  but  could  they  be 
done  in  Vermont,  and  by  Jim  Bethel's  cousin?  In  India, 
now,  or  Egypt,  or  any  of  the  other  far-off  places  Jim  had 
learned  about  in  the  old  .geography-book — but  in  Vermont ! 
Something  of  these  ideas  he  managed  to  express  in  his 
slow  way. 

Jesse  said :  "  Does  God,  then,  so  despise  your  native 
State  that  He  would  scorn  to  manifest  Himself  within 
its  borders?  " 

"  I  never  thought  of  that,"  the  puzzled  fellow  answered. 
"  But  it  does  seem  very  mysterious." 

"  So  is  the  birth  and  nourishment  of  every  blade  of  grass 
on  your  broad  acres,"  replied  Jesse ;  "  so  is  the  shining  of 
the  stars  that  light  your  barnyard  on  a  winter  night.  Yet 
God  performs  these  wonders.  Could  He  not  also  send  a 
messenger  with  the  word  of  truth — even  to  Vermont?" 

"  You  have  a  way  of  putting  things  which  makes  a  man 
believe  against  his  will." 

"  So  long  as  you  believe,"  smiled  Jesse,  "  I  care  not 
though  it  be  against  your  will." 

"  And  you  do  believe !  "  cried  the  zealous  Peter,  eager 
for  new  converts.  "  You  even  now  believe ! " 

"  If  I  could  only  see  with  my  own  eyes  some  of  these 
strange  things,  perhaps " 


THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL          243 

Jesse  raised  his  hand  as  a  signal  for  silence  and  atten- 
tion, and  they  looked  at  him  in  breathless  expectation, 
feeling  that  something  extraordinary  was  about  to  happen. 
He  closed  his  eyes  for  a  moment,  then  opened  them,  clear 
and  blue,  upon  their  questioning  gaze. 

"  In  the  room  directly  above  this  room  in  which  we  sit," 
he  said,  "  is  an  old  mahogany  table.  It  was  not  there 
when  I  was  last  in  this  house,  eleven  years  ago."  He 
paused,  and  looked  at  Jim's  wife.  "  Is  it  not  so?" 

"  Yes,  my  father's  writing-table,  which  I  brought  with 
me  from  New  Hampshire  after  his  death,"  she  answered, 
in  a  low  voice  that  quivered  with  suppressed  excitement. 
"  It  stood  at  the  head  of  his  bed,  and  no  one  was  ever 
allowed  to  use  it  but  himself." 

"Yes,  your  father's  writing-table.  It  has  a  shallow 
drawer,  in  which  he  kept  his  papers.  All  this  you  know. 
But  you  do  not  know  that  by  pressing  a  nail  on  the  left 
side  of  the  false-bottom  of  that  shallow  drawer,  a  sliding 
panel  will  be  released.  You  were  surprised  that  your 
father  left  so  little  money  for  his  only  child.  Go  up  now, 
and  claim  your  inheritance." 

Without  a  word  the  husband  and  wife  rushed  upstairs. 
Jesse  had  not  even  risen  from  his  chair,  but  the  three  men 
from  Capronville  were  walking  excitedly  about  the  room. 
Suddenly  they  heard  a  cry  from  the  floor  above.  The 
men  turned  triumphantly  to  Jesse,  saying,  "  They  have 
found  it!  They  have  found  it!  "  But  he  answered  them, 
with  a  sad  smile: 

"  You  told  them  of  the  words  of  immortal  life,  and 
they  would  not  believe.  You  told  them  of  the  testimony 
of  the  inspired  Hermit,  of  the  multitudes  awakened  by 
the  Spirit,  of  the  comforting  of  the  sad,  the  healing  of 
the  sick;  still  they  would  not  believe.  I  tell  them  of  a 
store  of  hidden  wealth,  revealed  to  me  by  that  simple 
clairvoyance  which  is  the  stock-in-trade  of  many  common 
charlatans,  and  now — they  will  believe.  O  my  friends! 
How  few  there  are,  even  among  those  who  shall  profess 
their  faith  in  the  Spirit,  who  shall  really  breathe  the  air 
of  the  spiritual  mountain." 

A  moment  later  Jim  and  Eva  Bethel,  having  satisfied 
themselves  as  to  the  contents  of  the  secret  drawer,  were 


244          THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL 

overwhelming  Jesse  with  their  thanks  and  protestations  of 
unshakeable  belief  in  everything  that  he  should  ever  say 
or  do.  They  were  richer  by  three  government  bonds  of 
one  thousand  dollars  each,  and  some  five  hundred  dollars 
in  currency.  The  sadness  that  had  lain  upon  the  heart  of 
Jesse  passed  from  him,  and  he  enjoyed  their  gladness  with 
them.  In  the  first  flush  of  gratitude,  they  even  offered 
him  a  portion  of  the  money;  but  he  said: 

"  The  Spirit  that  I  follow  has  given  me  riches  beyond 
your  understanding.  I  have  no  need  of  any  earthly 
thing." 

The  fire  within  him  shone  so  clearly  at  that  moment 
through  the  pure  envelope  of  his  body,  that  even  their  dull 
souls  were  lighted  by  reflection.  They  gazed  at  him,  for- 
getting their  new-found  wealth  in  the  sudden  glory  of  his 
countenance.  Finally  Jim  found  voice  to  say: 

"  I  don't  know  what  it  is  that  makes  you  different  from 
every  other  being  on  God's  earth,  and  I  don't  know  very 
clearly  what  you  want  me  to  do,  or  what  you  expect  me 
to  believe;  but  I  am  with  you  from  this  hour,  in  word  and 
deed.  So  help  me  God !  " 

Jesse's  voice  was  gentler  than  the  whisper  of  the  summer 
wind  in  the  pine-trees,  as  he  answered: 

"  He  who  shall  really  claim  the  help  of  God  to  strengthen 
his  belief,  shall  feel  his  spirit  lifted  by  invisible  wings 
into  the  thrilling  atmosphere  of  the  new  life." 


CHAPTER  XL 

WITHIN  an  hour  or  two  the  news  of  Jesse's  arrival  in 
Nashburgh,  and  the  finding  of  the  hidden  fortune  through 
his  mysterious  powers,  had  flown  from  one  end  to  the  other 
of  the  little  district.  Jim's  farmhand  had  started  the  fire 
of  rumour,  and  it  spread  hither  and  thither  on  the  winds 
of  hurried  visiting.  Women  who  had  not  been  to  see  their 
nearest  neighbours  for  a  month  put  on  their  hats  and  went 
forth.  Mrs.  Olin  Madison  heard  the  news  from  her  hus- 
band, who  had  it  from  Thomas  Taylor,  who  had  it  directly 
from  the  hired  man  on  Jim's  place.  Ten  minutes  later 
the  eldest  of  the  Brown  girls,  still  unmarried,  rang  the 
newly-installed  electric  bell  on  the  Madison  front  door. 

"  Come  right  in,  Florence,"  cried  Mrs.  Madison,  when 
she  caught  sight  of  her.  "Of  course  you've  heard  the 
news  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  what  do  you  think  of  it  ?  "  Florence  Brown 
never  had  any  well-defined  views  of  her  own,  but  formed 
her  judgments  of  the  value  of  her  fellow  beings  by  the 
latest  quotations  of  popular  opinion. 

Mrs.  Madison  paused  a  little  before  answering,  to  give 
more  weight  to  her  pronouncement.  "  I  think,"  she  said 
at  length,  pausing  again  to  adjust  a  hairpin  in  her  coronet 
of  iron-grey  hair,  "  I  think  I  shall  not  go  far  out  of  my 
way  to  seek  religious  instruction  from  a  young  fellow  that 
I  fed  with  sugar-plums  when  he  was  in  baby  dresses." 

"  I  quite  understand  your  feeling,"  answered  Florence ; 
"  but  they  do  say  he  has  quite  a  following  in  Vergennes. 
You  remember  the  rich  Mary  Magnus  who  used  to  visit 
Susie  Smith?  Well,  she  is  one  of  the  five  converts  he's 
brought  with  him  to  Nashburgh." 

"  That  may  be.  But,  still,  I  don't  believe  that  many  of 
the  best  people  go  in  for  that  sort  of  thing.  David  wrote 
me  from  Burlington  that  Jesse  was  there  with  that  crazy 
Hermit,  and  that  their  followers  were  mostly  poor  people, 

245 


246          THE   SON    OF    MARY   BETHEL 

many  of  them  quite  disreputable.  You  know  that  David, 
having  so  high  a  position  in  the  bank  there,  has  to  be  very 
careful  what  sort  of  people  he  associates  with.  I  always 
liked  Jesse  well  enough,  and  so  did  David;  but  you  know 
that  in  a  place  like  Burlington  the  bankers  and  the  car- 
penters don't  go  in  the  same  society.  Of  course,"  she 
added,  with  heightened  colour,  "  my  own  husband  is  only 
a  farmer;  but  everything  is  quite  different  in  a  place  like 
this." 

"  Of  course,"  Florence  assented.  "  But  they  say  he 
cures  people  of  all  kinds  of  diseases,  just  by  touching 
them." 

"  Oh,  hysterical  women,  no  doubt,  who  imagine  them- 
selves cured  by  the  presence  of  a  wonderfully  handsome 
young  man!  " 

"Yes;  but  there  were  men  also,  and  little  children." 

Mrs.  Madison  drew  a  long  breadth  and  sat  very  straight 
in  her  chair,  while  her  lips  tightened  into  a  thin  red  line. 
"  Of  course,  it's  all  very  interesting." 

Florence  was  leaning  forward,  with  a  flush  on  her 
usually  pale  face.  "  Did  you  hear  about  the  bonds  and 
the  money  he  discovered  in  a  drawer  upstairs,  without 
moving  from  his  chair  in  the  sitting-room?  " 

Something  half-way  between  a  superior  smile  and  a 
sneer  curled  the  thin  lips  of  Mrs.  Madison.  "  Of  course," 
she  said,  "  I  wouldn't  accuse  Jesse,  or  Jim  either,  whose 
parents  I  knew  thirty  years  ago,  of  making  up  evidence; 
but  the  whole  thing  looks  to  me  very  queer.  Thomas 
Taylor  said  that  nobody  really  saw  the  money  in  the  secret 
drawer  except  Jim  and  Eva." 

"  You  really  don't  think  .  .  ."  Florence  was  be- 
ginning to  feel  that  perhaps  she  had  spoken  too  sympathetic- 
ally of  this  new  religious  teacher,  of  whom  Mrs.  Madison 
apparently  disapproved. 

"  I  really  have  no  opinion  on  the  subject,"  that  lady 
went  on,  in  her  deliberate,  judicial  manner.  "  David  says 
that  no  one  should  ever  express  an  opinion  based  on  in- 
sufficient data." 

"  They  say,"  ventured  Florence,  "  that  Jesse  and  his 
friends  are  going  to  hold  a  meeting  in  the  church  on  Sun- 
day morning,  the  day  after  to-morrow." 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          247 

"Are  you  going?"  Mrs.  Madison's  face  was  non-com- 
mittal. 

"Why,  I  don't  know.     .      .      .     Shall  you?" 

"  Possibly,  though  I  seldom  attend  the  meetings  of 
religious  agitators.  Still,  Jesse  was  always  extremely 
courteous  to  me,  and  I  don't  know  of  any  reason  why  I 
shouldn't  go  to  his  meeting." 

"  I  think  everybody  will  go,  if  only  out  of  curiosity," 
Florence  said,  rising  and  reaching  for  her  parasol. 

Mrs.  Madison  followed  her  visitor  to  the  door,  and  as 
Florence  was  going  down  the  steps  she  called  after  her, 
with  a  doubting  laugh: 

"  You  might  get  Jesse  to  cure  your  sister  Jane's  nervous 
trouble." 

While  Jesse  was  being  weighed  in  the  petty  scales  of 
local  gossip  at  one  end  of  Nashburgh,  at  the  other  end  he 
rested  in  the  cool  grey  sitting-room  of  Jim's  house,  sur- 
rounded by  the  five  faithful  ones  and  his  now  grateful 
kinsfolk.  Susie  Smith  and  her  brother  Stephen  were  also 
there,  for  Eva  had  sent  them  an  invitation  by  Andrew  to 
come  over  to  supper.  Jim's  younger  brother,  Joe  Bethel, 
had  returned  from  the  grist-mill  in  Wheelerville,  where 
he  had  gone  that  morning  with  a  load  of  grain;  and  when 
he  saw  the  illumined  face  of  Jesse  and  heard  the  story  of 
the  strangely  discovered  fortune,  he  lost  all  power  of 
speech,  and  sat  gazing  at  his  cousin  as  at  some  incredibly 
gigantic  being  from  another  planet  who  had  suddenly  de- 
scended with  a  shower  of  meteors  upon  the  dwellers  in 
drowsy  Nashburgh. 

Mary  Magnus  was  charming  to  Jim's  wife,  who  thought 
her  the  most  delightful  person  she  had  ever  seen — with 
the  sole  exception  of  Jesse.  Mary  insisted  on  helping  Eva 
prepare  the  supper,  a  very  welcome  service,  as  there  were 
plates  for  twelve  at  the  long  table  that  night.  Eva  had  no 
way  of  knowing  that  the  eggs  which  Mary  boiled  so 
deliciously  were  her  first  experiment  in  the  culinary  art. 
When  the  table  was  almost  ready,  Mary  went  out  into 
the  old-fashioned  flower-garden,  and  coming  back  with 
both  hands  full  of  the  blue,  crimson  and  white  blossoms, 
she  covered  the  cloth  around  Jesse's  plate  with  their  fra- 


248          THE   SON    OF    MARY   BETHEL 

grant  sweetness,  that  he  might  seem  to  eat  from  the  very 
cups  of  flowers. 

"  Behold,"  she  cried,  laughingly,  as  he  came  into  the 
dining-room,  "the  first  meal  I  ever  cooked  for  you!" 
Then  she  added,  in  a  murmur  for  his  ears  alone, — "  the 
first  meal  I  ever  cooked." 

Thanking  her  with  a  tender  smile,  he  loosened  eleven 
blossoms  from  the  half-hundred  which  wreathed  his  plate, 
and  passing  slowly  around  the  table,  laid  one  flower  beside 
each  of  the  other  plates. 

"  That  you  may  blossom  in  the  Spirit  like  these  flowers," 
he  said  to  them.  It  was  done  with  a  grave  dignity  and 
sweetness  that  made  it  seem  a  mystic  ceremony.  The 
flower  Mary  received  from  his  hand  was  a  white  lily,  with 
a  heart  of  gold. 

Glancing  round  the  table,  Mary  wondered  who  was  the 
twelfth  member  of  their  company,  a  ruddy-faced  young 
man  who  seemed  to  be  rather  uncomfortable  in  a  coat  too 
small  for  him,  worn  over  a  blue  cotton  shirt  without  a 
collar.  She  whispered  to  Jim  Bethel,  who  was  beside 
her: 

"  Who  is  the  young  man  on  the  left  of  your  brother  ?  " 

"  The  hired  man." 

"Oh,  yes,  of  course!" 

And  the  clear  eyes  of  Jesse,  watching  her,  saw  no  shadow 
of  surprise  or  prejudice  on  her  peaceful  face.  In  adopting 
their  simple  life,  she  had  come  to  them  with  no  reservations 
of  class  superiority,  not  even  that  affectation  of  over-affabil- 
ity which  really  draws  a  broader  line  of  demarcation  than 
the  haughtiest  reserve.  It  seemed  to  Jesse  as  if  she  were 
unconscious  of  any  difference  between  the  new  life  and  the 
old.  The  perfect  tact  of  the  widest  social  experience,  and 
the  self-effacing  simplicity  of  a  loving  heart,  those  two  ex- 
tremes which  so  often  resemble  each  other  in  externals,  were 
fused  in  her  by  the  flame  of  devotion  to  Jesse.  She  was  not 
even  aware  of  either,  and  therein  lay  the  secret  of  her  charm 
for  these  sensitive  and  independent  owners  of  the  soil. 

It  was  a  delightful  meal,  that  first  meal  of  the  wander- 
ing community  of  the  Spirit  in  Nashburgh.  Neither  John 
nor  Mary  had  ever  seen  Jesse  appear  so  simply  and  humanly 
happy.  Even  in  the  intimacy  of  their  communal  meals  in 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          249 

Vergennes,  he  had  always  been  the  Master,  removed  a  little 
from  them  by  the  very  greatness  which  brought  them  closer 
to  him.  But  here  in  the  valley  of  his  birth,  in  the  house 
of  those  who  were  akin  to  him  in  blood,  he  seemed,  some- 
how, at  a  lesser  distance  from  the  life  of  ordinary  humanity ; 
not  less  transcendently  himself,  but  more  appealingly  like 
them. 

"  Is  the  horse-chestnut  still  standing  on  the  hill  in  the 
middle  of  the  north  pasture  ?  "  he  asked  Jim,  as  Eva  passed 
the  bread. 

"  No,  the  wind  blew  it  down  last  year." 

"  Dear  old  tree ! "  Jesse  was  smiling  with  reminis- 
cences. "  Often  have  I  come  over  here  across-lots  to  visit 
Jim  and  Joe  in  the  early  spring,  when  all  the  other  trees 
were  still  in  their  grey-green  nakedness,  and  turning  a  cor- 
ner of  the  barn  I  have  seen  appear  before  me — like  an 
earth-spirit  rising  out  of  the  ground  to  breathe  the  upper 
air  and  warm  itself  in  the  sunshine — that  white-veiled 
tree.  .  .  .  And  the  spring  flood,  Jim;  does  it  still 
cover  the  flats  over  there  in  April?" 

"  Yes,  Jesse,  the  flood  still  rises  every  spring." 

"  And  so  it  will  for  ever ;  as  long  as  the  mountains  stand 
above  the  marshes,  they  will  send  down  the  water  from 
their  melted  snows  and  their  spring  rains  to  form  a  tem- 
porary lake  around  Nashburgh.  And  generation  after 
generation  of  growing  children  will  gaze  at  dawn  across 
the  mirror  of  the  flood,  and  see  reflected  there  the  vast, 
blue,  distant  mountains,  the  inaccessible  mountains,  lying 
at  their  very  feet;  as  if  a  god  had  left  his  home  on  the 
white  horizon  and  come  down  to  play  with  them  in  the 
valley. 

"  When  I  was  a  child,"  Jesse  went  on,  "  I  made  up  a 
wonder-story  about  a  Nashburgh  boy  who  loved  the 
mountains  so  much  that  he  thought  of  it  all  day  and 
dreamed  of  it  all  night;  but  no  one  would  ever  take  him 
to  the  mountain.  And  one  lovely  April  morning,  when 
the  flood  lay  over  the  marshes  beyond  his  home,  the  boy's 
heart  leaped  with  rapture;  for  there  on  the  blue  reflecting 
surface  of  the  water,  only  a  few  rods  distant,  was  his 
beloved  mountain.  The  white,  inaccessible  top  of  it  was 
toward  him,  reversed  by  the  reflection;  and  as  the  wind 


250          THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL 

passed  in  little  ripples  over  the  surface  of  the  flood,  it 
seemed  to  the  boy  that  the  mountain  on  the  water  was 
waving  and  beckoning  to  him.  And  he  thought  that  if  he 
should  take  his  father's  boat,  and  row  out  to  the  spot  where 
the  top  of  the  mountain  was  reflected  in  the  water,  when 
the  reflection  rose  he  would  rise  with  it  and  find  himself 
up  there  where  he  had  always  longed  to  be.  Then  he 
would  lay  his  cheek  against  the  white  sky  as  against  his 
mother's  bosom,  while  the  mountain  would  sing  to  him 
over  and  over  for  a  long  time  the  song  he  had  sometimes 
heard  down  in  the  valley,  when  the  autumn  winds  blew 
cold  and  his  father  would  say,  '  The  mountain  is  singing 
to-night:  we  shall  have  a  storm  to-morrow.'  And  he 
would  dwell  up  there  an  immensity  of  years,  learning  all 
the  secret  things  the  mountains  whispered  to  each  other 
in  the  dark  (for  the  boy  was  never  afraid) — and  if,  being 
so  near  to  God  up  there,  he  should  ever  hear  Him  speak 
out  of  the  whirlwind,  as  He  spoke  to  Job,  perhaps  the  boy 
would  go  down  again  to  the  valley  for  a  little  while  and 
tell  the  people  what  God  said,  that  they  might  love  each 
other  better,  and  sometimes  look  up  at  the  sky  without 
considering  the  weather. 

"  With  his  heart  full  of  these  things,  the  boy  went  down 
to  the  edge  of  the  flood,  and  loosing  the  boat  moored 
there,  he  started  to  row  out  to  the  beckoning  mirrored 
mountain,  that  he  might  rise  with  it  when  it  rose.  But 
with  every  stroke  of  the  oars  which  should  have  brought 
him  nearer  to  the  goal  of  his  dreams,  the  mountain  on  the 
water  receded  farther  and  farther  away.  At  last  he 
reached  the  other  shore.  The  mirrored  mountain  had 
gone  from  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  the  real  mountain 
seemed  as  far  away  as  ever,  as  blue,  as  inaccessible. 

"The  boy  sat  down  on  the  sodden  ground  beyond  the 
water,  and  wept." 

No  one  spoke  for  a  little  time;  they  all  sat  looking  into 
space,  carried  beyond  themselves  by  the  imagination  of  the 
narrator.  Then  Jim  said: 

"  I  guess  you  were  that  boy,  Jesse." 

They  had  been  so  absorbed  in  the  story  that  they  had 
not  noticed  a  tall,  thin  figure  standing  in  the  door  of  the 
dining-room.  The  young  man  now  came  forward  shyly, 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          251 

twisting  an  old  cap  between  his  nervous  hands.  Jesse 
smiled  a  radiant  welcome. 

"Why,  Marty!    Marty  White!  " 

"  I  heard — they  told  me  you  were  here,"  he  stammered, 
standing  beside  Jesse,  who  had  turned  in  his  chair  to  clasp 
the  young  man  by  both  his  hands. 

Jim  and  Eva  added  their  welcome  to  Jesse's,  and  a 
place  was  made  for  Marty  at  the  table,  next  to  his  friend. 
Mary  Magnus  remembered  the  poor  boy  to  whom  Jesse 
had  given  the  big  red  apple,  her  first  offering  to  him,  down 
in  the  old  schoolhouse  twenty  years  before. 

"You  were  the  boy  who  was  bitten  by  the  snake,"  she 
laughed.  "  How  well  I  remember  that  day !  "  She  said 
nothing  of  the  tears  she  had  shed  that  afternoon  because 
Jesse  had  gone  home  without  bidding  her  good-bye. 

"  And  you  were  the  lovely  little  girl  who  visited  the 
school,  and  wore  such  soft  white  dresses.  For  years  after- 
ward, whenever  I  heard  anyone  speak  of  angels,  I  always 
thought  of  you." 

It  was  said  with  such  naive  sincerity  that  Mary  blushed 
with  pleasure.  He  did  not  seem  to  know  that  he  was 
paying  her  a  compliment,  which  made  the  simple  tribute  all 
the  more  worth  while  to  a  woman  who  had  been  surfeited 
with  disingenuous  flattery. 

Marty  knew  all  about  Jesse's  preaching  up  north;  he 
had  questioned  the  train-men  who  brought  the  news  to 
Nashburgh  until  they  were  tired  of  his  insistence,  for  he 
made  them  tell  their  story  over  and  over  again,  while  he 
wrote  down  on  scraps  of  wrapping-paper  the  sayings  of  the 
new  teacher  which  were  beginning  to  be  current  in  men's 
mouths — sayings  Marty  only  half  understood,  but  which 
charmed  him  even  as  they  charmed  others.  Sitting  there 
at  the  table  beside  Jesse,  he  repeated  all  that  he  had 
heard. 

"They  tell  me  you  said  this,  Jesse:  'If  you  have  the 
courage  to  examine  the  recesses  of  your  own  nature  without 
fear  and  without  shame,  you  have  found  the  key  which 
shall  unlock  for  you  the  doors  of  eternal  safety  and 
honour.'  >: 

"Yes,  Marty." 

"And  this,   too:     'Even   the   average  man  who  would 


252          THE   SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

measure  the  greatness  of  his  own  soul,,  or  the  soul  of 
his  brother,  needs  a  tape  long  enough  to  reach  the  stars.'  " 

"  I  said  that  also." 

"And  did  you  say:  '  God  is  the  Power,  and  I  am  the 
expression  of  the  Power  '  ?  " 

"Yes.     Do  you  not  feel  it  to  be  true?" 

"  It  seems  to  me  it's  the  truest  thing  I  ever  heard. 
And  this  also  I  feel  to  be  true,  which  they  tell  me  you 
said:  'There  is  one  Spirit,  but  there  are  many  bodies.' 
Is  that  why  you  love  everyone  so  much,  Jesse?  Is  that 
why  you've  always  been  so  good  to  me?  " 

"  As  the  Spirit  is  one,"  Jesse  answered,  "  we  are  really 
all  one  being:  you  and  I,  these  friends  of  ours,  and  those 
others  who  are  not  our  friends;  yes,  all  the  human  beings 
in  the  world,  whether  we  know  them  or  not,  are  really 
a  part  of  ourselves.  So  why  shouldn't  we  love  each 
other?" 

"  It's  wonderful,"  said  Marty,  "  and  I've  been  so  happy 
ever  since  the  hour  I  heard  it.  I  used  to  be  lonesome; 
but  now  I'll  never  be  so  any  more.  How  can  I  feel  alone, 
when  there  are  so  many  of  me?  " 

The  impulsive  Mary  laid  her  soft  hand  on  the  rough 
brown  hand  of  Marty.  Her  eyes  and  voice  were  gentle. 

"  You  are  one  of  us"  she  breathed. 

"  I'd  like  to  be — Oh,  how  I'd  like  to  be!  "  His  eyes 
were  full  of  tears,  and  his  homely  face  seemed  almost 
beautiful. 

"  Henceforth,"  said  Jesse,  "  you  will  follow  me  wher- 
ever I  go.  You  are  the  brother  of  these  faithful  ones." 


CHAPTER  XLI 

THE  following  morning  Jesse  set  out  to  visit  the  house 
of  his  birth.  As  the  principal  road  through  Nashburgh 
was  formed  like  a  horseshoe,  with  Jim  Bethel's  house  at 
one  end  and  Jesse's  birthplace  at  the  other,  in  years  gone 
by  a  foot-path  had  been  made  across-lots,  a  path  worn 
brown  and  grassless  by  feet  which_  no  longer  moved 
about  the  surface  of  the  earth.  From  Jim's  dooryard,  down 
through  a  marshy  meadow  and  up  a  little  hill,  through  a 
stretch  of  woods  and  over  a  rocky  pasture,  went  the  nar- 
row, pathetic  path,  whose  every  rod  was  sacred  with 
memories.  Wishing  to  share  the  enjoyment  of  this  pil- 
grimage with  one  who  knew  the  stories  of  every  rock  and 
tree  along  the  way,  Jesse  had  asked  Marty  to  join  them 
early  in  the  morning  and  make  the  seventh  of  the  little 
band  of  pilgrims. 

Strange  paradox  of  this  great  nature,  with  its  blending 
of  the  sweet  human  and  the  superhuman!  Now  in  the 
dawn  of  the  fulfilment  of  his  mission,  with  the  weight 
of  a  tremendous  destiny  upon  his  shoulders,  he  carried  the 
burden  so  easily  that  he  could  pause  by  the  wayside  to 
gather  the  violets  of  childhood  memory.  He  would  preach 
better  on  the  morrow,  would  stand  more  firmly  on  the 
isolate  height  of  impersonal  prophecy,  for  this  wandering 
in  the  valley  of  personal  attachment. 

But  with  all  his  tender  familiarity  of  association,  his 
unity  with  these  friends  in  the  little  ways  of  daily  life,  there 
was  always  about  him  that  majesty  of  humility  which  ele- 
vates the  great  religious  teacher  above  the  reach  of  kings. 

Jesse  was  unusually  quiet  that  morning  as  they  climbed 
the  hill  beyond  the  marshy  meadow  and  entered  the  woods. 
The  hill  seemed  not  so  steep  as  when  he  was  a  boy,  the 
trees  seemed  not  so  high;  but  the  mysterious  green  shadows 
of  the  woods  had  deepened  with  the  deepening  of  his  soul, 
and  the  stillness  made  him  still.  Marty  knew  this  region 

253 


254          THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

as  well  as  Jesse  did,  though  less  intimately;  but  the  deli- 
cacy which  is  often  native  with  those  who  live  near  to  the 
earth  restrained  him  from  intruding  with  even  a  pleasing 
mutual  reminiscence  upon  the  privacy  of  his  friend's 
thoughts. 

When  they  had  gone  a  little  way  into  the  woods,  Jesse 
stood  still  and  raised  his  arms  in  ecstatic  invocation  of  that 
Power  which  to  him  was  ever  consciously  near,  ever  in 
union  with  himself.  He  seemed  to  have  forgotten  the 
presence  of  the  others. 

"  O  Spirit  of  the  universe,"  he  prayed,  "  father,  friend, 
sustainer  and  pervader  of  the  souls  of  all  that  live!  Thou 
who  art  in  me  and  around  me,  whose  thought  is  vibrant 
in  my  brain,  whose  love  looks  out  at  me  from  the  eyes 
of  those  I  love,  and  enters  me  with  the  air  I  breathe! 
Thou  whose  voice  speaks  to  me  in  the  song  of  yonder  bird, 
and  is  silent  with  the  loving  silence  of  my  companions,  I 
adore  Thee,  and  I  am  Thy  servant! 

"  Though  the  world  should  refuse  to  receive  me — my 
God  is  wiser  than  I.  Should  the  gifts  that  I  bring  be 
thrown  back  at  my  feet — my  God  is  more  loving  than  I. 
Should  my  labour  fail  of  its  harvest — my  God  is  more 
patient  than  I." 

Something  in  the  spirit  of  this  strange  prayer  clutched 
at  their  hearts  and  made  them  afraid.  Why  did  he  speak 
of  the  world's  refusal  of  him?  Was  he  not  to  trans- 
form the  world?  What  gifts  would  ever  be  thrown  back 
at  his  feet?  Why,  all  mankind  were  waiting  for  his 
gifts!  How  could  his  labour  fail  of  the  harvest?  And 
why  should  he  remind  himself  of  the  patience  of  God? 
They  questioned  him  and  each  other  with  their  eyes,  but 
no  one  dared  to  speak. 

They  left  the  woods  and  entered  the  rocky  pasture, 
warm  with  the  summer  sun,  and  cut  diagonally  across 
by  the  immemorial  foot-path.  Jesse  was  the  only  one  who 
walked  in  the  narrow  brown  line;  the  others  trailed  irreg- 
ularly behind  him  over  the  green  and  yellow  grass,  clipped 
short  by  the  grazing  cows.  He  who  had  never  walked  in 
any  mental  or  emotional  path  made  by  his  predecessors, 
found  an  intense  pleasure  in  following  this  physical  path; 
it  seemed  to  prove  his  claim  upon  the  region  of  his  birth, 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          255 

to  establish  a  tie  between  himself  and  the  past  and  present 
of  its  inhabitants.  Whoever  he  might  be,  whatever  he 
might  become,  his  life,  his  thoughts,  were  indissolubly 
twined  with  the  path  which  crossed  Taylor's  pasture. 
Strange  that  it  should  be  Taylor's;  stranger  still  that  the 
old  house  they  were  going  to  was  now  Taylor's  also.  In 
former  days  the  pasture  had  been  Smith's  pasture,  and  the 
house  had  been  his  father's  house.  But  the  mere  owner- 
ship of  portions  of  the  earth's  surface  had  never  been  a 
matter  of  much  importance  to  Jesse;  the  pasture  really  be- 
longed to  him  who  loved  it  most,  and  so  did  the  old  grey 
house,  and  all  the  other  beautiful  things  in  the  world. 

Suddenly  an  unwelcome  thought  crossed  his  mind.  He 
turned  to  Marty  and  asked: 

"  Is  anyone  living  there  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  family  from  Wheelerville.  The  man  works  on 
the  railroad-track." 

So  he  was  not  to  have  the  freedom  of  the  empty  place, 
after  all!  Some  sordid  story  of  the  present  was  written 
over  the  ideal  shadow-poem  of  the  past — a  palimpsest  he 
must  decipher  as  best  he  could. 

"The  house  has  been  empty  most  of  the  time  for  the 
last  few  years,"  Marty  went  on.  "  Taylor  has  let  the 
place  run  down  so  that  nobody  wants  to  live  in  it,  if  they 
can  find  any  other  house.  The  orchard  is  half  eaten  up 
by  worms,  and  your  mother's  old  flower-garden  has  been 
spoiled  by  Taylor's  sheep;  for  he  uses  the  dooryard  as  a 
pasture  when  he  isn't  able  to  let  the  house." 

Jesse  made  no  answer.  He  was  thinking  of  the  fairy 
play-ground  under  the  rose-bushes — now  desecrated  by 
small  cattle;  thinking  of  the  mystic  grove  where  he  had 
dreamed  in  the  moonlit  evenings — now  "  half  eaten  up 
by  worms." 

They  came  to  the  bars  on  the  west  side  of  the  pasture, 
and  Andrew  let  them  down  for  the  women  to  pass  through. 
There  they  had  their  first  glimpse  of  the  old  blue-grey 
house  and  the  orchard.  Jesse  gazed  across  the  intervening 
twenty  rods  of  space,  gazed  across  the  intervening  years. 
He  had  thought  of  his  childhood's  home  as  a  rather  large 
house;  but  this  seemed  to  be  a  small  house,  low-roofed, 
and  narrow  as  the  life  of  Nashburgh.  Then,  too,  its  pro- 


256          THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

portions  were  inharmonious;  and  he  now  realised  that  the 
beauty  he  had  seen  about  it  all  these  years  was  but  the 
glamour  of  his  early  dreams. 

From  where  they  stood  at  Taylor's  bars  the  land  sloped 
gradually  down  to  the  West  Road,  then  rose  less  gradually 
to  the  level  of  his  old  home.  A  few  yards  to  the  left  of 
the  bars  stood  "  the  ghost  house,"  shaded  and  made  gloomy 
by  its  now  overgrown  hedge  of  cedar-trees.  This  shelter 
of  vagrant  and  occasional  families  had  been  given  its  name 
by  the  ten-year-old  Jesse,  because  of  the  strange  way  in 
which  the  light  used  to  fall  whitely  on  the  glass  of  its 
usually  empty  windows.  In  this  house  he  and  his 
mother  had  once  nursed  a  whole  family  of  unfortunates 
through  the  horrors  of  black  diphtheria,  nursed  them  into 
the  peace  of  hurried  charity  graves.  No  one  else,  except 
the  doctor  and  the  nervous  undertaker,  would  come  near 
the  place.  But  Jesse  and  his  mother  were  untouched  by 
the  disease,  for  diphtheria,  like  calumny,  respects  those  who 
have  no  fear  of  it. 

At  the  foot  of  the  hill,  beside  the  road,  was  the  old 
well.  There  was  no  pump,  and  Jesse  raised  the  wooden 
cover  and  looked  down — down — to  where  his  head  was 
reflected  in  the  black  water,  twenty  feet  below  the  sur- 
face. 

"  Oh,  I  would  like  to  drink  from  the  well !  "  cried 
Mary;  and  Andrew  went  up  to  the  house  to  borrow  a 
pail,  and  the  rope  with  a  hook  at  one  end  which  was  their 
primitive  means  of  drawing  water. 

When  the  brimming  pail  was  placed  at  his  feet,  Jesse 
filled  a  cup  and  gave  it  to  Mary,  saying: 

"  That  you  may  quench  your  thirst  for  ever  with  the 
water  from  my  well." 

Then  he  gave  the  others  to  drink. 

"Though  Mary  was  the  first  to  ask  for  it,"  he  said, 
"the  water  is  for  all,  and  the  well  is  deep."  He  always 
delighted  in  playing  upon  words,  though  often  the  duller 
wits  around  him  did  not  grasp  his  meaning. 

The  wide  gate  was  open,  and  they  went  up  the  road 
to  the  house,  where  a  group  of  ragged  children  stood 
around  the  door,  staring  open-mouthed  at  the  strangers. 

A  care-worn  woman  came  out  at  the  call  of  the  children, 


THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL          257 

and  asked  rather  gruffly  what  they  wanted.  She  was 
trying  to  do  her  Saturday  baking,  and  the  mouths  in  her 
charge  were  many. 

Jesse's  smile  was  like  sudden  sunshine  breaking  through 
the  clouds  of  her  hopeless  gloom.  With  that  sweet  cour- 
tesy which  would  have  opened  for  him  the  doors  of  a 
palace  had  he  cared  to  enter  a  palace,  he  asked  this  frowsy 
drudge  if  he  might  show  his  friends  the  house  in  which  he 
was  born. 

For  a  moment  the  woman  looked  at  him,  without  a 
word.  No  one  had  ever  spoken  to  her  in  that  way  be- 
fore. An  unaccustomed  dignity  now  straightened  her 
slatternly  figure,  and  a  flush  rose  to  her  cheek. 

"  The  house  ain't  over-clean,"  she  murmured. 

"  So  many  little  mouths  to  feed  do  not  leave  the  mother 
much  leisure,"  he  answered,  as  they  passed  into  the  untidy 
kitchen. 

Jesse  led  his  companions  to  the  broken  west  window, 
and  pointed  to  the  long  line  of  purple  and  yellow  marshes 
beyond  the  railroad,  fifty  rods  away. 

"  This,"  he  said,  "  is  the  lonely  world  my  mother  gazed 
at  every  day  during  the  long  months  before  I  was  born. 
Oppressed  by  the  material  nothingness,  she  was  forced  to 
find  a  spiritual  something  to  respond  to  the  yearning  of 
her  soul." 

"Do  you  mean  yourself?"  asked  Peter,  to  whom  the 
clearness  of  an  idea  was  more  than  the  poetry  of  its  ex- 
pression. 

"  I  mean  the  love  that  brought  me  into  being — the  love 
of  the  Spirit  for  the  human  soul." 

He  turned  away  from  the  window  and  went  into  an 
adjoining  room,  followed  by  his  friends,  and  by  the  house- 
mother with  her  brood  of  children. 

"  This  is  where  I  slept  for  eighteen  years,"  he  said. 

He  did  not  linger  there,  but  passed  through  a  bare  little 
entry,  through  another  room  littered  with  untidy  beds 
and  bedding,  and  thence  into  a  smaller  room  at  the  north 
end  of  the  house — a  room  absolutely  empty.  The  needs 
of  a  numerous  family  had  not  intruded  here;  instinctively 
the  casual  guardians  of  the  memorable  place  had  kept 
sacred  this  bare  altar  in  the  midst  of  desecration.  The  six 


258          THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL 

who  came  with  Jesse  knew  the  meaning  of  his  silence. 
This  was  the  Room  of  Birth!  These  narrow  walls  had 
listened  to  the  first  sound  of  that  voice  whose  words  would 
reverberate  through  the  chambers  of  human  consciousness. 
Through  that  one  little  window  facing  east,  the  light  of 
day  had  discovered  him. 

Mary  and  John  moved  forward  to  the  window,  that 
the  rays  of  the  morning  sun  might  fall  upon  them.  Each 
read  the  other's  thought,  but  neither  could  speak.  These 
two  who  loved  their  teacher  most  had  many  beautiful  se- 
crets in  common.  They  were  roused  from  their  reverie 
by  the  touch  of  Jesse's  hand. 

"  Will  you  ask  them  all  to  go  out,  and  leave  me  a  little 
while  alone?  " 

He  closed  the  door  softly  behind  them.  The  air  was 
heavy  in  the  Room  of  Birth,  even  as  the  atmosphere  of 
the  world  into  which  he  was  born  was  not  pure  enough 
for  him.  He  raised  the  window,  and  fastened  it  with  the 
very  nail  on  the  end  of  a  cotton  string  which  had  been 
there  when  he  was  a  child.  Turning  his  back  to  the  light, 
he  contemplated  the  small  square  space,  hallowed  with  vast 
meanings.  To  him  it  was  a  symbol  of  the  narrow  room 
of  material  existence,  of  the  world-life  into  which  he  had 
been  born,  from  which  he  had  escaped  on  the  mountain 
of  enlightenment,  and  to  which  he  had  voluntarily  re- 
turned for  the  great  purposes  of  his  mission.  This  little 
room  seemed  far  from  the  mountain  of  enlightenment;  but 
he  had  found  his  way  unaided  from  the  one  to  the  other. 
Could  the  human  race  he  loved  find  that  long  way,  even 
with  his  aid? 

The  immortal  Spirit,  that  was  himself,  had  in  this  room 
taken  on  the  vesture  of  mortality.  It  seemed  to  Jesse 
that  here  in  Nashburgh  he  was  plunged  more  deeply  into 
matter  than  in  any  other  place;  that  the  wings  of  the  Spirit 
drooped  ever  so  little.  He  now  saw  the  reason  why:  The 
Spirit,  elsewhere  free,  was  here  reminded  of  its  incarna- 
tion. 

He  closed  the  window,  refastening  it  with  the  old  nail; 
then  he  rejoined  his  friends  in  the  dooryard.  But  the 
rose-bushes  he  had  promised  to  show  them  were  now  no 
more,  the  grape-vines  were  no  more,  the  blue  and  the  white 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          259 

lilies  were  no  more.  The  orchard  where  the  worms  fore- 
gathered he  had  no  wish  to  visit. 

When  Jesse  turned  to  say  good-bye  to  the  tired-faced 
woman  who  baked  her  bread  in  his  mother's  kitchen,  he 
noticed  an  unhealthy-looking  child  lying  on  a  pillow  in  a 
rough  wooden  box,  placed  in  the  shade  of  a  maple-tree.  It 
seemed  to  be  about  two  years  old;  its  face  was  flushed  with 
fever,  and  its  thin  arms  tossed  restlessly.  Seeing  the 
sympathy  in  the  eyes  of  the  stranger,  the  mother  bent  over 
the  rude  crib  and  tenderly  smoothed  the  forehead  of  the 
child. 

"  I  don't  know  what's  the  matter  with  him,"  she  said. 
"  I'd  send  for  the  doctor,  if  I  had  anybody  to  send,  but 
the  nearest  one  is  seven  miles  away.  He  was  taken  sick 
yesterday  morning,  wouldn't  eat,  and  all  last  night  he 
moaned  and  tossed  about  so  that  I  didn't  get  any  sleep, 
and  he  hasn't  slept  all  day,  either.  Do  you  think,  sir,  he's 
very  sick?" 

Jesse  bent  over  the  child.  He  took  the  hot  little  rest- 
less arms  and  laid  them  gently  at  the  sides  of  the  hot  little 
restless  body;  he  straightened  the  tangled  clothing,  closed 
the  child's  eyes,  and  drew  the  mosquito-netting  over  the 
top  of  the  box.  The  mother  watched.  Her  face  had 
grown  pale. 

"  Why,  the  boy's  asleep !  "  she  whispered,  gazing  round 
at  the  little  group  with  astonished  eyes. 

"  He  will  sleep  until  five  o'clock,"  said  Jesse,  "  then  he 
will  wake  of  his  own  accord.  You  may  give  him  a  bowl 
of  mush  and  milk,  let  him  play  about  a  little,  and  put  him 
to  bed  again  at  eight  o'clock.  To-morrow  he  will  be  as 
well  as  ever — better  than  ever,  for  I  see  that  he  has  not 
been  a  very  healthy  child." 

The  eyes  of  the  mother  grew  wider  and  wider. 

"  When  the  shade  of  the  tree  moves  around,"  Jesse  con- 
tinued, "  you  may  move  the  crib  toward  the  other  side. 
Do  not  fear  that  you  will  disturb  the  child;  he  will  not 
wake  until  five  o'clock.  But  leave  him  in  the  open  air." 

The  eyes  of  the  mother  now  filled  with  tears,  and  Jesse 
took  both  her  hands  in  his  gentle  clasp.  Then  she  found 
her  voice  to  thank  him,  looking  up  into  his  face  as  at  some 
wonderful  and  sacred  thing. 


260          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"  Love  is  the  great  physician,"  he  said  to  her.  "  Be  at 
peace,  my  sister."  Then  he  turned  toward  the  old  grey 
barn,  followed  by  his  friends. 

Mary  Magnus  lingered  a  moment  with  the  mother  of 
the  child.  She  had  taken  something  from  a  little  purse  at 
her  belt,  and  pressed  it  into  the  woman's  hand. 

"  Whomever  he  calls  sister  is  my  sister.  Will  you  not 
take  a  little  gift  from  me?" 

When  the  woman  saw  the  figures  on  the  yellow-backed 
paper,  she  gasped.  But  the  New  England  independence  re- 
strained her.  She  looked  wistfully  from  the  money  to  the 
beautiful  woman  who  had  given  it. 

"  We're  not  so  very  poor,"  she  said,  "  my  husband  makes 
good  wages." 

"  But  it's  for  the  children,"  Mary  smiled  at  her. 
"  Those  little  feet  wear  out  shoes  so  fast,  and  the  little 
mouths  enjoy  beefsteak  and  broth  and  other  good  things. 
I  haven't  forgotten  when  I  was  a  child." 

"  Who  is  he? "  the  woman  asked.  "  Is  he  your 
brother?" 

"He  is  the  brother  of  all  the  world." 

"  He  has  cured  my  child,  I  feel  that  he  has  cured  my 
child." 

"  He  cured  me  also,"  Mary  answered,  "  and  of  far  more 
grievous  things  than  summer  fevers." 

"  Shall  I  never  see  him  again  ?  "  The  woman's  eyes  were 
wistful. 

Mary  replied  to  her  question  by  asking  another:  "  Have 
you  a  horse?" 

"  Yes."  She  pointed  to  the  spavined  old  mare  tied  by 
a  rope  to  a  tree  in  the  scrubby  orchard  north  of  the  house. 

"  Then  come  to-morrow  morning  to  the  little  Nash- 
burgh  church.  He  will  preach  there." 

"  Then  he's  a  preacher  ?  Why,  I  thought  he  was  a  doc- 
tor!" 

"  He  is  the  doctor  of  both  the  soul  and  the  body.  I 
shall  expect  to  see  you  at  the  church  to-morrow  morning 
— with  the  little  one  whom  he  cured." 

Then  Mary  walked  quickly  over  the  grass  to  join  her 
friends  in  the  old  barn,  where  years  before  Jesse  had  first 
tried  the  power  of  his  voice  among  the  reverberating  raft- 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          261 

ers.  The  rafters  were  still  there,  inviting  reverberations; 
but  Jesse  did  not  raise  his  voice  above  a  murmur.  There 
was  little  hay  in  the  barn  now,  and  the  spavined  old  mare 
was  wise  to  browse  in  the  orchard  during  the  summer 
days,  reserving  this  meagre  store  of  provisions  for  the 
melancholy  days  to  come. 

Andrew  had  discovered  an  immense  wasps'  nest  high  up 
under  the  ridge-pole,  and  pointed  it  out  to  Anna.  His 
shy  and  reverent  love,  always  burning  to  call  attention  to 
itself,  was  so  very  shy  and  reverent  that  it  left  him  only 
the  courage  to  approach  her  on  impersonal  subjects,  to  call 
her  attention  to  such  things  as  sunsets  and  wasps'  nests. 
Had  she  but  hinted  a  desire  for  this  marvel  of  the  construct- 
ive art  of  the  dangerous  insect,  he  would  have  offered  to 
scale  the  thirty-foot  perpendicular  west  wall  of  the  barn 
to  get  it  for  her;  had  she  expressed  a  desire  for  the  sunset, 
he  would  have  made  ready  for  the  quest — provided  always 
that  it  should  not  take  him  away  from  Jesse.  In  this  case 
the  divided  allegiance  was  better  than  the  single  eye;  for 
he  could  not  have  revered  Anna  so  much  had  he  not  re- 
vered Jesse  more.  That  she  was  also  his  disciple  threw  the 
aureole  of  infinity  around  her  finite  womanhood. 

"  It's  beautiful  to  see  how  all  winged  things  aspire,  in 
building  their  homes  high  up,"  said  Anna,  referring  to  the 
position  of  the  wasps'  nest. 

Andrew  knew  of  birds  that  built  their  nests  on  the 
ground,  but  it  would  have  seemed  profane  to  refer  to  them 
at  that  moment. 

"  Even  human  beings,"  he  said,  "  build  high — when  they 
love." 

"  That  is  because  their  souls  are  winged,  too,"  she  an- 
swered, with  a  pretty  blush. 

They  did  not  linger  in  the  barn,  but  set  out  across  the 
pasture  for  Jesse's  pine-tree,  the  witness  of  his  childhood's 
tears,  the  confidant  of  his  youth.  Lonely  and  solemn  the 
tree  stood,  its  dark  form  outlined  against  the  sky  and  the 
marshes.  Of  all  the  trees  on  the  earth's  surface,  this 
would  ever  be  for  him  The  Tree;  but  how  could  he  make 
his  companions  understand?  Long  ago  he  had  come  to 
realise  that  while  his  life  was  a  type  of  the  life  of  mankind 
on  its  long  journey,  yet  in  him  all  the  human  feelings  and 


262          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

perceptions  were  many  times  magnified;  that  his  life  was 
the  life  of  man,  raised  to  a  higher  power.  And  a  great 
loneliness  now  overwhelmed  him — the  loneliness  of  him 
whose  thoughts  are  beyond  the  comprehension  of  those  he 
loves.  Even  the  old  pine-tree  could  not  sympathise  with 
him  any  longer,  for  his  present  joy  and  grief  were  beyond 
the  ken  of  mindless  Nature. 

And  to-morrow  he  must  stand  up  in  his  native  town, 
before  a  crowd  of  camp-followers  of  the  army  of  mate- 
rialism, and  try  to  make  them  feel  the  beauty  of  the  im- 
manent Spirit.  Had  he  descended  from  the  clouds,  had 
he  come  from  some  remote  region  of  the  earth  with  the  gla- 
mour of  the  unknown  around  him,  then  the  very  flame  of 
their  curiosity  might  have  lighted  the  viscid  oil  in  their 
souls'  lamps.  But,  as  it  was,  he  would  ever  be  to  them 
but  the  son  of  a  fellow  camp-follower  in  the  material  army. 
Should  he  tell  them  of  the  mountain  of  illumination,  whose 
height  was  really  farther  from  them  than  were  the  peaks 
of  the  Himalayas,  they  would  place  that  height  on  the 
mountains  east  of  Burlington,  and  mock  at  the  presump- 
tion of  one  of  Nashburgh's  sons  in  thinking  to  instruct 
the  fathers  of  Nashburgh. 

To-day  there  was  no  communion  between  his  soul  and 
the  soul  of  the  pine-tree;  the  wind  that  whispered  through 
its  ancient  branches  seemed  preoccupied  with  some  busi- 
ness of  importance  only  to  Nashburgh.  There  was  some- 
thing vaguely  resentful  in  the  indifference  of  the  tree.  It 
seemed  to  hint  that  he  who  had  made  new  confidants  among 
the  trees  of  the  mountain  of  illumination,  had  better  go 
back  to  the  mountain. 


CHAPTER    XLII 

THERE  was  no  regular  minister  at  that  time  in  Nash- 
burgh.  The  town  could  not  afford  to  keep  a  minister,  and 
one  who  could  afford  to  keep  himself  in  the  town  was  not 
forthcoming.  Wandering  preachers  occasionally  spoke  in 
the  little  wooden  church,  young  men  who  wanted  prac- 
tice and  old  men  who  wanted  pay;  but  none  of  them  was 
"  called."  A  preacher  was  sure  of  nothing  there  except 
an  audience;  there  could,  of  course,  be  no  admission  fee, 
and  free  entertainment  of  any  sort  was  a  welcome  break 
in  the  monotony  of  the  long  weeks.  As  subjects  of  con- 
versation were  few  and  news  was  at  a  premium,  any  man 
who  announced  to  anybody  in  the  town  that  he  would 
speak  in  the  church  on  a  certain  Sunday,  could  depend 
upon  mouth  to  mouth  announcements  to  advertise  his  meet- 
ing. That  part  of  Jesse's  complicated  problem  in  his  na- 
tive town  was  easy  of  solution. 

Some  time  before  the  appointed  hour,  along  the  three 
roads  leading  to  the  meeting-house  came  wagons  of  all 
ages  and  conditions,  some  shining  with  respectability  and 
recent  ablutions,  others  grey  and  crusted  with  the  clay- 
mud  of  many  months'  accretion.  The  passengers  were  va- 
ried as  the  vehicles.  There  were  toothless  grandsires,  who 
had  been  old  men  when  Jesse  was  a  little  boy;  young  men 
who  had  known  him  in  the  casual  fraternity  of  the  station- 
platform,  and  of  the  post-office  and  general-store,  that 
lyceum  of  rural  opinions;  young  married  women  with  their 
babies,  who  had  secretly  dreamed  of  his  beauty  in  years 
gone  by,  when  marriage  was  a  fascinating  possibility  of  the 
future,  and  these  noisy  children  were  still  in  the  bosom  of 
infinity;  corpulent  mothers  of  families,  who  had  held 
Mary  Bethel's  boy  upon  their  knees  in  days  before  he 
learned  of  his  relation  to  the  Spirit;  stern  or  jocose  farm- 
ers, weather-beaten,  seasoned  with  the  juice  of  bad  tobacco, 
and  cynical  with  the  ethics  of  the  horse-trade;  boys  and 
girls,  most  of  them  unborn  when  Jesse  left  Nashburgh, 

265 


264          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

who  went  to  the  meeting-house  in  the  same  spirit  as  they 
went  to  schoolj  because  it  was  expected  of  them;  and  here 
and  there  the  fresh  young  wistful  face  of  a  youth  or  a 
maid  in  the  Maytime  of  emotional  possibilities,  who  might 
have  been  fired  with  the  enthusiasm  of  Jesse's  faith  had 
they  not  been  predisposed  against  him  by  the  compromising 
fact  that  he  was  born  in  Nashburgh.  There  were  also  a 
few  strangers,  the  floating  population  of  the  township,  men 
and  women  who  were  unconscious  of  what  a  suspicious 
circumstance  it  was  to  have  been  born  in  this  pretty  valley ; 
but  they  were  mostly  of  the  lower  and  least  respected 
classes. 

By  a  quarter  of  eleven  the  church  was  nearly  full,  and 
five  minutes  before  the  hour  there  was  not  a  vacant  seat, 
except  the  long  "  mourners'  bench  "  in  front,  and  the  one 
black  horse-hair  chair  on  the  platform,  to  the  right  of  the 
pulpit.  Nashburgh  had  turned  out  in  force  to  hear  what 
Jesse  had  to  say,  and  to  see  how  Jesse  looked.  Though 
their  motive  in  coming  was  nothing  more  reverent  than 
curiosity,  at  least  they  had  come.  The  bare  white  walls 
of  the  little  meeting-house  had  never  before  enclosed  so 
large  a  gathering. 

Mrs.  Olin  Madison  sat  with  her  husband,  about  mid- 
way between  the  pulpit  and  the  door.  To  have  gone 
farther  forward  would  have  evinced  an  interest  in  the 
speaker  and  his  sermon  to  which  she  was  not  ready  to  com- 
mit herself;  to  have  sat  farther  back  would  have  been 
compromising  to  her  dignity,  would  have  placed  her  among 
those  whom  she  called  "  the  riff-raff."  The  presence  of 
Mrs.  Madison  in  the  meeting-house  was  in  itself  an  un- 
usual event.  She  did  not  tell  herself  that  she  hoped  the  son 
of  Mary  Bethel  would  appreciate  her  condescension,  but 
such  a  feeling  dwelt  vaguely  at  the  back  of  her  conscious- 
ness. It  was  three  minutes  of  eleven  by  Mrs.  Madison's 
gold  watch,  and  still  Jesse  had  not  come. 

Thomas  Taylor  and  his  wife  sat  well  forward.  He  had 
married  his  hard-faced  housekeeper  some  years  before,  after 
repeated  hints  from  the  neighbours  that  such  a  course  was 
expected  from  him  if  she  was  to  continue  a  member  of 
their  God-fearing  community.  Taylor's  younger  son  was 
also  with  them.  The  three  Brown  girls  had  followed  Mrs. 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          265 

Madison's  lead,  and  sat  about  half-way  back.  The  station- 
master,  the  store-keeper,  the  constable,  and  two  hundred 
of  Nashburgh's  other  inhabitants  were  also  listening  and 
watching. 

It  was  one  minute  before  eleven  when  every  person  in 
the  church  became  suddenly  aware  of  a  presence.  The 
thick  carpet  down  the  aisle  gave  back  no  sound  from  his 
footsteps;  but  they  felt  that  he  was  there  behind  them, 
beside  them.  There  was  a  lightness  in  the  atmosphere,  a 
response  in  their  hearts  as  to  the  air  of  high  mountains, 
and  he  passed  by  them  to  the  platform  and  sat  down.  He 
did  not  kneel,  nor  shade  his  eyes  with  his  hand  in  silent 
prayer,  nor  do  any  of  the  other  things  to  which  they  were 
accustomed.  He  simply  sat  down.  High  and  pure  he 
seemed,  even  to  their  dull  perception.  He  did  not  wear 
the  solemn  and  ill-fitting  black  clothes  usually  seen  be- 
hind that  pulpit;  his  soft,  well-made  garments  were  of  dark 
blue,  and  above  them  shone  his  beautiful  face,  with  its 
nimbus  of  gold  hair.  He  looked  at  them,  and  a  tremour 
passed  over  every  man  and  woman  there. 

Then  down  the  aisle  came  his  companions:  the  three 
men  from  Capronville,  Mary  Magnus  and  Anna  Martin, 
Stephen  and  Susie  Smith,  Marty  White,  and  the  three 
Bethels,  Jim,  Joe  and  Eva.  They  sat  on  the  long  front 
seat,  called  the  "  mourners'  bench,"  and  the  four  singers 
were  in  the  centre. 

For  perhaps  thirty  seconds  there  was  utter  silence.  Then 
Jesse  rose,  and  the  four  rose  with  him;  they  stepped  for- 
ward a  little,  faced  the  congregation,  and  without  a  word 
of  announcement  began  to  sing — the  song  of  love  and  dis- 
cipleship  which  Mary  and  Anna  had  made  for  the  glory 
of  their  teacher. 

"  When  our  mild-eyed  Master  came 

From  the  mountains  of  the  soul, 
In  his  heart  God's  secret  name, 

Round  his  head  Love's  aureole, 
We  believed  the  Dawn  had  taken 

Form  of  man  for  our  surprise, 
And  our  dreaming  souls  were  shaken 

With  the  signal  of  his  eyes. 


266          THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

"Roses  which  no  time  shall  fade 

He  has  given  us  to  keep, 
And  the  world  his  words  have  made 

Lovely  as  the  hills  of  sleep. 
Now,  revealed  to  one  another, 

We  are  one  since   life  began, 
And  the  sacred  name  of  brother 

We  may  breathe  to  every  man. 

"  We  have  found  the  faith  that  gives 

Mountain  air  for  every  breath, 
Fragrant  bread  for  each  that  lives. 

And  behind  the  doors  of  death 
Lurks  no  dread  to  make  us  fear  it, 

For  our  souls  have  found  the  clime 
Where  the  lilies  of  the  Spirit 

Blossom  in  the  winter-time." 


The  song  was  a  confession  of  faith,  a  challenge  to  dis- 
belief, a  statement  of  the  claims  made  by  him  and  by 
others  in  his  name.  It  fell  upon  the  ears  of  listening  Nash- 
burgh  like  a  song  in  an  unfamiliar  tongue;  yet  its  purport 
was  somehow  plain,  however  its  finer  meanings  might 
elude  them.  The  voice  of  Mary  Magnus  rose  pure  and 
clear  above  the  untrained  voices  of  her  choir,  leading  them, 
luring  them  on  in  the  fearless  quest  of  the  Spirit  along  the 
paths  of  sound.  No  one  could  listen  unmoved  'to  that  pas- 
sionate voice,  and  had  she  sung  the  glory  of  some  far-off 
god,  some  long-dead  prophet,  their  minds  would  have  as- 
sented; but  they  realised  that  this  new  song  was  in  honour 
of  the  son  of  Mary  Bethel,  realised  that  it  presumptuously 
exalted  him  to  a  place  on  the  mountain-peak  of  humanity, 
within  hailing  distance  of  God.  And  the  heart  of  Nash- 
burgh  rebelled  against  the  assumptions  of  her  son.  The 
religious  members  of  the  congregation  were  shocked  as 
by  some  bold  profanity;  the  irreligious  listeners  hardly 
realised  the  enormity  of  the  claim. 

The  choir  sat  down,  and  Jesse  opened  the  Scriptures 
which  lay  upon  the  pine  pulpit.  It  was  not  his  habit  to 
read  from  the  Bible  at  his  meetings,  but  he  chose  to  do  so 
in  this  place.  He  turned  to  the  Book  of  Isaiah,  and  read 
a  verse  here  and  there: 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          267 

"'I  heard  the  voice  of  the  Lord,  saying,  Whom  shall  I  send, 
and  who  will  go  for  us?  Then  said  I,  Here  am  I;  send  me.' 

•  •  •  •  • 

"'The  people  that  walked  in  darkness  have  seen  a  great  light: 
they  that  dwell  in  the  land  of  the  shadow  of  death,  upon  them  hath 
the  light  shined.' 

•  •  •  •  • 

" '  And  a  man  shall  be  as  an  hiding  place  from  the  wind,  and  a 
covert  from  the  tempest;  as  rivers  of  water  in  a  dry  place,  as  the 
shadow  of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary  land. 

"  'And  the  eyes  of  them  that  see  shall  not  be  dim,  and  the  ears 
of  them  that  hear  shall  hearken. 

" '  The  heart  also  of  the  rash  shall  understand  knowledge,  and 
the  tongue  of  the  stammerers  shall  be  ready  to  speak  plainly.' " 

He  closed  the  book  and  stood  for  a  moment  looking 
down  at  them  in  silence,  that  all  the  meanings  and  sug- 
gestions of  the  words  which  he  had  read  might  be  grasped 
by  their  slow  minds.  When  he  saw  in  their  eyes  that  they 
understood  him,  he  began  to  speak. 

"  I  am  the  mouthpiece  of  the  Spirit,  the  voice  of  the 
everlasting  stillness.  My  words  ring  loudest  in  the  soul 
when  the  ears  no  longer  hear  them;  for  what  the  Spirit 
utters  can  never  be  gainsaid. 

"  You  have  read  how  Moses  wrote  that  the  world  and 
the  heavens  were  formed  in  six  days;  but  the  Spirit  will 
re-form  them  now  in  twice  as  many  months. 

"  You  have  been  taught  how  to  protect  yourselves  from 
one  another;  but  nothing  can  protect  you  against  the  ag- 
gression of  the  Spirit. 

"  You  have  learned  the  lessons  of  selfishness  and  thrift ; 
but  in  the  school  of  the  Spirit  that  knowledge  will  be  of 
no  use;  the  penniless  man  who  loves  his  neighbour  shall 
stand  higher  than  the  wealthy  man  who  loves  only  himself. 

"The  world  values  you  by  the  costliness  of  your  gar- 
ments, and  by  what  you  have  accumulated;  the  Spirit 
values  you  for  your  nakedness,  and  by  what  you  have  re- 
linquished. 

"  You  pride  yourselves  upon  your  morals.  Morals  are 
as  desirable  as  frequent  bathing;  but  as  mere  bathing  will 
not  change  the  face,  so  mere  morals  will  not  change  the 
heart.  Both  are  external.  That  which  shall  transform 


268          THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

the  face  and  make  the  heart  beautiful  is  love,  and  it  comes 
from  within. 

"  What  are  love's  duties  ?  The  privilege  of  high  souls 
to  give  themselves  for  others. 

"  When  you  speak  for  the  sake  of  others  and  not^  for 
your  own  sake,  then  only  will  the  whole  world  listen. 

"  Many  fail  who  are  personally  ambitious ;  but  a  few 
personally  succeed  who  are  ambitious  only  for  the  prog- 
ress of  mankind. 

"  He  who  does  a  good  action  for  the  sake  of  reward, 
may  receive  what  seems  to  be  a  reward;  but  there  is  a 
higher  motive. 

"Why  do  you  build  such  towering  structures  on  the 
perishable  foundation  of  your  body?  A  little  while  and  it 
will  be  no  more;  it  will  sink  into  the  earth,  and  all  your 
building  with  it;  for  the  you  which  shall  endure  is  not 
this  body. 

"  That  which  is  immortal  and  indestructible,  which 
water  cannot  drown,  nor  fire  burn,  nor  the  passing  seasons 
leave  behind — That  you  are." 

Someone  had  placed  upon  the  pulpit  a  vase  of  flowers. 
He  separated  one — a  white  lily — and  held  it  up  for  them 
to  see. 

"  Is  it  not  beautiful  ?  "  he  said.  "  Yet  its  beauty  is  more 
than  the  dust  from  which  it  sprang.  There  is  a  Some- 
thing concealed  in  every  object  that  is  more  beautiful  than 
the  object.  Look  for  that.  When  you  have  found  it,  you 
will  have  found  the  Spirit. 

"The  sun  is  a  luminous  body  giving  light  of  itself;  so 
is  that  Something  at  the  centre  of  man  and  of  all  things. 

"  Alas,  that  men  should  carry  in  their  souls  a  ray  of 
the  Great  Light,  and  yet  should  walk  in  darkness!" 

He  spoke  to  them  of  the  wonders  of  the  immanent  Spirit, 
and  the  grandeur  of  the  human  soul,  using  the  same  beau- 
tiful words  he  had  spoken  in  the  house  of  the  Hermit's  dis- 
ciples on  that  first  night  in  Burlington,  when  he  was  fresh 
from  the  exaltation  of  the  mountain.  He  told  these 
weather-beaten,  cynical  farmers,  to  whom  a  dollar  was  more 
certain  than  a  God,  that  they  themselves  were  gods — 
gods  who  denied  or  bartered  their  divinity.  He  told  them 
also  that  they  were  good;  that  somewhere  among  the  lit- 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          269 

ter  and  confusion  of  their  life's  lumber-room  was  the  price- 
less pearl  of  spiritual  goodness,  often  trodden  under  foot, 
always  disregarded,  but  indisputably  there;  and  that  even 
their  meanest  and  most  disobliging  neighbour  possessed 
such  another  pearl.  He  said: 

"  Does  the  heart  of  man  seem  evil  to  you?     Look  again. 

"  He  who  declares  that  the  heart  of  man  is  evil,  is  like 
one  who  ties  a  bandage  over  his  eyes  before  he  lights  the 
lamp. 

"  Or  do  all  other  men  seem  evil  to  you,  and  do  you 
alone  seem  just?  Then  pity  the  poor  world  which  has 
laboured  for  a  million  years  to  produce  only  one  creditable 
work! 

"  Do  you  shrink  from  the  contemplation  of  an  evil  man? 
It  is  the  sinner  in  you  which  recognises  and  fears  the  sin- 
ner. 

"  Do  weak  and  evil  men  seem  small  compared  with  you? 
How  do  you  fancy  that  you  appear  when  compared  with 
great  men? 

"  I  have  said  that  there  is  a  god  in  you ;  but  there  is 
also  a  devil,  and  one  of  his  many  names  is  self-righteous- 
ness. 

"  If  you  refrain  from  lifting  your  fallen  brother  for  fear 
of  soiling  your  own  stainless  garment,  beware  of  the  slip- 
pery rock  which  will  throw  you  in  the  mud  but  a  step  or 
two  farther  on. 

"  Anything  which  really  separates  you  from  humanity  is 
an  evil,  even  though  it  be  your  own  virtue. 

"  When  a  man  seems  to  you  to  be  utterly  depraved,  it 
may  be  that  you  are  not  pure  enough  to  understand  him. 

"When  you  enumerate  all  the  follies  and  vices  of  which 
you  have  never  been  guilty,  try  to  remember  a  time  when 
you  preferred  the  happiness  or  welfare  of  your  enemy  to 
that  of  yourself. 

"  Do  you  rejoice  that  you  are  superior  to  your  neigh- 
bour? Humble  yourself  before  him,  and  prove  it. 

"  The  repentant  sinner  may  pass  the  threshold  of  the 
spiritual  chamber  and  take  his  seat  among  the  elect  within, 
while  the  self-righteous  saint  remains  outside  with  the 
uninvited." 

Again  he  stood  in  silence  for  a  moment,  looking  down 


270          THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

at  them.  The  thin  lips  of  Mrs.  Madison  were  set  in  a 
straight  line;  on  the  dark  face  of  Thomas  Taylor  was  a 
threatening  frown;  but  here  and  there  about  the  congre- 
gation Jesse  saw  a  face  alight  with  wondering  admiration, 
and  the  church  was  still  as  virgin  space. 

Then  he  told  them  this  allegory: 

"  There  was  a  wise  physician  who  discovered  the  heal- 
ing properties  in  a  familiar  flower  which  grew  in  every 
meadow. 

"  And  he  told  his  neighbours  and  his  friends,  offering 
them  freely  of  the  medicine  distilled  by  his  own  labours. 

*  But  they  laughed  at  him  and  scorned  his  medicine,  say- 
ing: '  All  our  lives  we  have  known  this  common  flower, 
and  our  children  have  played  with  it.  How  could  it  heal 
our  fevers,  or  allay  the  weariness  in  our  bones?  We  want 
neither  your  medicine  nor  you.' 

"  Then  the  wise  physician  went  to  another  country, 
whose  people  were  unacquainted  with  the  source  of  his  heal- 
ing draught,  and  he  cured  these  strangers  of  all  their  dis- 
eases and  raised  them  from  the  level  of  the  grave,  so  that 
his  very  name  became  sacred,  and  he  was  called  the  great 
physician,  the  healer  of  the  world. 

"  And  a  fever  came  to  scourge  his  native  valley,  and 
those  who  had  refused  the  wise  physician  and  his  remedy 
went  down  before  it  as  a  field  of  grass  before  the  mower. 
But  the  potent  flower  still  bloomed — above  their  graves." 

Another  silence,  longer  and  more  tense  than  before. 
.  .  .  Then  Jesse  raised  his  arms  in  signal  of  the  com- 
ing benediction,  and  the  whole  congregation  rose  in  invol- 
untary obedience  to  his  will. 

"  May  the  Spirit  which  never  sleeps  awake  you  to  a 
realisation  of  its  invisible  presence." 


CHAPTER  XLIII 

THE  congregation  seemed  to  be  in  no  hurry  to  leave  the 
church.  Many  came  forward  at  once  and  gathered  around 
Jesse,  who  had  left  the  platform  and  was  standing  below 
the  pulpit.  People  were  talking  together  all  over  the 
room;  the  usual  Sunday  hush  was  not  preserved  on  this  un- 
usual day — did  not  seem  to  be  demanded  by  the  occasion. 

In  groups  or  singly,  everyone  in  the  church  came  for- 
ward finally  to  have  a  word  with  Jesse.  Mrs.  Madison 
held  back  for  a  time,  not  wishing  to  compromise  her  dig- 
nity by  unseemly  haste.  She  stood  talking  to  the  Brown 
girls  and  others,  who  listened  to  her  with  wandering  eyes 
and  wandering  attention;  she  spoke  of  other  things  instead 
of  the  sermon,  every-day  things,  as  if  the  commonplaces 
of  village  gossip  really  occupied  her  mind  to  the  exclusion 
of  the  burning  subject  which  occupied  the  mind  of  every- 
body else.  But  the  restless  manner  of  her  companions  told 
her  they  were  not  listening,  and  in  order  to  preserve  the 
appearance  of  being  a  centre  of  social  exchange  she  was 
obliged  to  refer  to  the  matter  in  hand. 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  sermon?  "  she  asked,  with  a 
nonchalant  air  which  did  not  commit  her  to  any  opinion, 
but  invited  her  unwary  listeners  to  commit  themselves. 

"  It  was  certainly  not  what  we're  accustomed  to,"  an- 
swered the  eldest  Miss  Brown,  with  spasmodic  efforts  to 
control  the  twitching  of  her  face,  known  in  Nashburgh  as 
her  "  nervous  trouble."  "  I  mean,"  she  added,  "  it  was 
much  better  than  anything  we're  accustomed  to." 

Mrs.  Madison  lifted  her  eyebrows.  Secretly  she  ad- 
mired the  young  woman's  courage  in  being  the  first  to  voice 
a  fact  which  they  all  vaguely  realised;  but  she  was  by  no 
means  ready  to  surrender  to  the  spell  of  the  young  man 
whom  she  had  "  fed  with  sugar-plums  when  he  was  in 
baby  dresses." 

"  His  claims  are  high,"  she  answered,  with  a  laugh 
which  might  have  been  mockery  and  might  have  been  from 

271 


272          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

mere  nervousness.  "  As  far  as  I  can  make  out,  he  considers 
himself  a  sort  of  Messiah,  sent  by  God  for  the  reforma- 
tion of  the  world." 

"What  blasphemy!"  ejaculated  Thomas  Taylor,  who 
had  joined  them.  "  The  son  of  Mary  Bethel!  A  Messiah, 
indeed!" 

The  boss  of  the  railroad  section  was  a  respectable  man 
of  religious  professions,  and  he  now  joined  the  group 
around  Mrs.  Madison,  saying  incredulously: 

"  Have  you  heard  that  he  cures  disease  by  the  laying 
on  of  hands?  " 

"  You  don't  say  so!  "  exclaimed  the  afflicted  Brown  girl. 

"When   and   where?"   demanded   Mrs.   Madison. 

He  told  them  of  the  incident  of  Saturday  morning,  when 
this  man  had  cured  the  Bennett  child  of  fever,  in  the  door- 
yard  of  his  old  home.  "  Or  so  the  parents  say,"  he  added. 
"  That's  almost  as  remarkable  as  rinding  a  hidden  fortune 
in  a  cupboard." 

"  It  was  a  secret  drawer,"  corrected  the  youngest  Brown 
girl. 

"  Suppose  you  go  up  and  ask  him  what  he  thinks  he  is, 
anyway,"  suggested  Taylor. 

"I'll  do  it!"  declared  Olin  Madison.  "Come  on, 
Maria." 

In  a  body  they  moved  forward,  all  but  Taylor,  who  dis- 
creetly watched  from  the  centre  of  the  church.  The  Ben- 
nett woman  and  her  brood  of  children  were  in  the  fore- 
ground. The  mother,  in  a  clean  calico  dress  and  with  her 
hair  neatly  done  up  in  a  pug  under  her  rusty  bonnet,  was 
telling  everyone  who  would  listen  to  her  of  the  strange 
healing  of  her  child.  Mary  Magnus  had  seen  the  woman 
in  the  back  of  the  church,  and  had  sent  Andrew  to  bring 
her  forward  where  her  testimony  could  be  heard. 

"  He  merely  touched  the  child  and  looked  at  him,  and 
the  fever  left  him  and  he  slept,  after  a  day  and  a  night 
of  crying  and  moaning,"  she  was  saying  as  the  group  came 
up.  "I  don't  know  what  you  call  it,  but  I  call  it  the 
power  o'  God." 

"  The  power  of  the  Spirit  that  makes  him  like  to  God," 
thrilled  the  voice  of  John,  his  clear  eyes  challenging  any- 
one to  disbelieve  the  miracle  he  had  witnessed. 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          273 

Mrs.  Madison  shook  hands  with  Mary  Magnus  before 
she  spoke  to.  Jesse.  Broken  straws  of  gossip  about  the 
banker's  daughter  had  blown  about  in  the  pure  air  of 
Nashburgh;  but  the  solid  certainty  of  Mary's  wealth 
weighed  heavily  in  the  popular  mind  against  the  uncertain 
rumour  of  her  lovers,  and  Mrs.  Madison  turned  to  her 
as  to  the  one  indisputable,  well-dressed  fact  in  this  ques- 
tionable riot  of  fancy. 

"And  did  you  really  see  him  cure  this  child?"  she 
asked. 

"  I  saw  him  cure  this  child,  as  I  have  seen  him  cure 
many  others,"  Mary  answered.  "  He  cures  everyone  who 
is  afflicted  and  who  has  the  faith  without  which  all  cures 
are  impossible." 

"  Has  he  ever  cured  you  of  anything?  "  Mrs.  Madison 
laughed  her  unpleasant  little  laugh. 

"  Oh,  he  cured  me  of  seven  devils !  "  Mary  replied,  with 
more  enthusiasm  than  discretion. 

"  How  very  interesting !  I  hope  they  were  polite,  well- 
bred  devils;  but  I'm  sure  you  wouldn't  associate  with  any 
other  kind." 

Mary  bowed  with  courteous  reserve,  and  turned  to 
speak  with  John.  That  was  the  beginning  of  the  story 
of  the  seven  devils,  a  story  which  survived  all  the  real 
facts  of  her  life  save  only  her  devotion  and  her  faith. 

Mrs.  Madison  turned  with  her  husband  to  the  place 
where  Jesse  stood  surrounded  by  an  eagerly  questioning 
crowd.  She  was  displeased  with  the  obvious  necessity  of 
going  t»  Jesse  if  she  wished  to  speak  with  him  at  all,  dis- 
pleased also  at  having  to  wait  a  little  time  behind  a  group 
of  unimportant  persons  who  lived  in  the  shanties  behind 
the  railway-station.  She  had  heard  that  he  made  no  dis- 
tinction between  respectable  people  and  the  riff-raff,  and 
now  he  was  actually  talking,  and  with  every  show  of  con- 
sideration, to  a  mulatto  woman  who  took  in  washing — 
while  Mrs.  Madison  was  kept  waiting.  Becoming  impa- 
tient, she  put  out  her  hand  to  him  across  the  mulatto 
woman. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  again,"  he  said,  taking  her  hand 
in  a  warm  clasp  which  sent  an  electric  current  through 
her  whole  body.  "  But  will  you  kindly  wait  one  mo- 


274          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

ment?  "  When  he  had  finished  what  he  was  saying  to  the 
other,  he  turned  again  to  Mrs.  Madison  with  his  irresist- 
ible smile,  and  shook  hands  with  her  husband. 

"  I  found  your  talk  very  interesting,"  she  began; 
«  but " 

"We  want  to  ask  you,"  Olin  Madison  interrupted, 
"  just  what  you  mean  by  some  of  the  things  you  said." 

"  Which  things  ?  " 

"  Well,  er "  the  old  man  stammered  and  the  colour 

deepened  in  his  cheeks  under  the  sunburn — "  what  do  you 
mean  by  saying  that  you  are  the  voice  of  the  Spirit,  or  the 
mouthpiece  of  the  Spirit,  or  whatever  it  was  that  you  did 
say?" 

Jesse  looked  down  into  the  eyes  of  his  father's  friend: 

"  You  are  familiar  with  the  voice  of  the  robin,  and  with 
the  voice  of  the  storm;  but  the  voice  of  the  Spirit  is  not 
like  either  of  these,  nor  is  it  like  the  voice  of  man.  Are 
you  sure  that  you  would  recognise  it  if  you  should  hear 
it?" 

Several  of  the  leading  men  of  Nashburgh  had  now 
joined  the  circle  around  Jesse.  Their  eyes  were  sharp  and 
their  mouths  had  an  unpleasant  look.  He  had  said  that 
they  were  gods  who  bartered  their  divinity;  he  had  accused 
them  of  selfishness,  and  made  light  of  their  morality.  A 
regularly  ordained  minister  might  be  allowed  to  tell  them, 
in  time-honoured  scriptural  language,  devitalised  by  repeti- 
tion, that  they  were  sinners;  but  here  was  a  man,  without 
the  authority  of  the  established  church,  who  dared  to  tell 
them,  in  language  of  his  own,  that  they  were  something 
dangerously  near  to  self-righteous  hypocrites.  They  were 
not  pleased,  these  leading  men  of  Nashburgh. 

Thomas  Taylor  had  left  his  place  in  the  centre  of  the 
church  and  had  come  down  to  the  fringe  of  the  circle 
around  Jesse. 

"  I  have  said  that  I  am  the  mouthpiece  of  the  Spirit," 
the  thrilling  voice  went  on,  "  and  you  ask  me  what  I  mean. 
When  you  hear  the  voice  of  the  thunder  you  do  not  ask 
its  meaning;  but  if  your  hay  is  dry  upon  the  ground,  you 
hurry  it  into  barns." 

When,  still  unsatisfied,  they  asked  for  further  explana- 
tions, he  said:  "The  Spirit  will  purify  the  atmosphere 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          275 

of  the  world  with  lightning  and  with  rain.  Will  you  not 
come  with  me  into  the  sheltering  house  of  faith?  " 

"  But  why  with  you?  "  they  persisted.  "  You  are  only 
one  of  us,  a  man  born  in  our  town,  whose  parents  we  all 
knew." 

His  answer  staggered  them: 

"  The  shittah-tree,  from  whose  wood  was  builded  the 
Ark  of  the  Covenant^  had  no  great  honour  in  its  native 
hills." 

"  What  do  you  want  us  to  believe  that  you  are,  any- 
way ?  "  It  was  Thomas  Taylor's  first  question  to  Jesse, 
and  the  tone  was  a  challenge.  This  is  the  answer  he  re- 
ceived : 

"The  pine-tree  dominates  the  hill,  however  the  grass- 
blades  may  deny  it." 

"  You  mean  that  you  are  the  pine-tree,  and  that  we " 

"  The  pine-tree  is  the  symbol  of  the  Spirit." 

Taylor  could  make  no  reasonable  objection  to  this,  and 
he  was  again  silent,  awaiting  his  opportunity. 

"We  are  told  that  you  can  cure  diseases  by  the  laying 
on  of  hands,"  said  Mrs.  Madison.  "  Come  here,  Jane 
Brown ! "  The  young  woman  with  the  twitching  face 
came  forward.  "  Here  is  a  case  which  has  baffled  all  the 
doctors.  Cure  her!  "  The  woman's  voice  was  high-pitched, 
half-mocking,  half-excited.  "  Cure  her,"  she  repeated, 
"  then  tell  us  that  you  are  really  something  extraordinary." 

Jesse  drew  a  long  and  deep  breath,  while  a  smile  of  ec- 
stasy lighted  his  face.  He  took  the  trembling,  ungloved 
hands  of  the  young  woman  in  both  his  own.  "Look  at 
me,"  he  said,  and  she  raised  her  timid  eyes  to  his.  For 
a  few  seconds  he  held  her  thus,  hand  to  hand,  eye  to  eye, 
while  her  quivering  fingers  relaxed,  and  her  eyes  grew 
clear  and  steady.  She  realised  that  he  was  speaking  to  her, 
yet  the  voice  seemed  to  come  from  the  depths  of  her  own 
heart. 

"  You  trust  me,  do  you  not  ?  You  believe  that  the 
Spirit  can  cure  you?" 

"  I  do  believe." 

"  Faith  is  more  potent  than  all  medicine ;  it  is  the  cove- 
nant of  the  human  soul  with  God.  If  you  unite  your  faith 
with  the  power  of  Heaven,  that  faith  becomes  an  irresist- 


276          THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

ible  engine,  and  neither  space  nor  matter  can  prevail 
against  it.  The  body  is  the  servant  of  the  spiritual  will,  and 
the  ally  of  the  spiritual  will  is  faith.  Faith  is  the  prom- 
ise which  is  always  fulfilled;  it  is  the  source  of  power,  the 
treasure  house  that  is  fuller  for  every  blessing  you  take 
from  its  abundance.  It  strengthens  the  soul  as  food 
strengthens  the  body;  it  refreshes  the  soul  like  a  well  of 
water  on  a  weary  road.  It  is  the  shelter  from  attack^  the 
chamber  of  sweet  rest.  There  is  no  mountain  which  faith 
cannot  climb,  no  sea  it  cannot  cross,  no  star  it  cannot 
reach.  It  guides  the  farmer's  hand  in  the  sowing  of  the 
grain;  it  leads  the  mariner  across  the  trackless  ocean;  it 
steadies  the  heart  of  the  earth  for  its  awful  plunge  through 
the  dark  of  unknown  space.  Believe,  and  whatever  you 
believe  shall  be" 

He  placed  his  electric  hands  upon  Jane's  forehead,  still 
holding  her  gaze  with  his  eyes;  then  slowly,  with  lingering 
beneficent  pressure,  his  healing  touch  passed  over  every  part 
of  her  afflicted  face. 

"  You  may  turn  and  speak  with  them,"  he  said ;  "  you 
are  cured  for  ever — your  face  will  never  twitch  again" 
The  concentration  of  his  gaze,  the  power  of  his  command, 
were  indescribable. 

Jane  turned  as  he  directed  her,  half-dazed  by  the  mys- 
terious force  emanating  from  him.  She  looked  around 
upon  what  seemed  a  sea  of  staring  eyes;  she  opened  her 
lips  slowly,  as  if  speech  were  some  new  power  to  be  ex- 
ercised with  caution.  Then,  looking  straight  before  her, 
she  repeated  the  twenty-third  Psalm  which  she  had  learned 
at  the  age  of  seven  years,  beginning:  "  The  Lord  is  my 
shepherd ;  I  shall  not  want,"  and  ending,  "  I  will  dwell 
in  the  house  of  the  Lord  for  ever." 

The  face  which  had  twitched  and  struggled  for  ten  years 
was  calm  as  Jesse's  own. 

Then  pandemonium  broke  loose:  the  sanctity  of  the  Sab- 
bath, the  restraints  of  the  sanctuary  were  forgotten,  and  a 
hundred  tongues  were  speaking  all  at  once:  "He's  cured 
her."  ...  "I  don't  believe  it."  .  .  .  "She's 
been  unsightly  for  ten  years."  ..."  It's  some  trick." 
..."  It's  the  power  of  God."  ..."  The  power 
of  the  Devil."  ..."  He's  only  Mary  Bethel's 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          277 

son."  .  .  .  "The  son  of  God,  I  tell  you."  .  .  . 
"  She's  tried  every  doctor  in  Burlington."  ..."  It's 
witchcraft."  ..."  Blessed  be  witchcraft,  then."  .  . 
"  I  say,  it's  a  trick."  ..."  Go  down  on  your  knees 
to  him."  ..."  Drive  him  out  of  town."  .  .  . 
"  He  could  kill  a  man  and  leave  no  mark."  ..."  The 
mouthpiece  of  the  Spirit."  ..."  I  tell  you  again,  it's 
a  trick."  ..."  Blessed  be  such  tricks."  .  .  . 
"  He's  dangerous,"  ..."  He's  sacred."  .  .  . 
"  He  can't  stay  here."  ..."  I  couldn't  sleep  nights 
if  he  did."  .  .  .  "Glory  be  to  God!"  .  .  . 
"Keep  silent,  will  you?"  .  .  .  "Where  did  he  get 
such  power?"  .  .  .  "It's  hypnotism."  .  .  . 
"Who  cares  what  it  is?"  .  .  .  "He's  bewitched 
her."  .  .  .  "He's  cured  her."  .  .  .  "Why, 
where  is  he? "  .  .  . 

Jesse   was   gone.      The   little   party   loosed    their   horses 
and  started  homeward,  leaving  the  crowd  behind. 


CHAPTER   XLIV 

SUSIE  SMITH  was  helping  Eva  Bethel  to  get  the  dinner, 
when  Marty  rushed  out  into  the  kitchen. 

"They're  coming!"  he  cried. 

Eva  was  putting  the  potatoes  to  bake,  and  she  rose  from 
her  knees  and  banged  the  oven  door.  "Who's  coming?" 
she  asked. 

"  A  whole  crowd  of  them." 

"Where's  Jesse?" 

"  Upstairs  in  his  room.     Come  to  the  front  door,  Eva." 

Jim  Bethel  was  on  the  verandah,  and  the  three  men  from 
Capronville  were  behind  him.  Coming  up  from  the  gate 
were  about  forty  men;  they  had  left  their  horses  at  Tay- 
lor's, a  short  distance  down  the  road.  At  the  head  of  the 
moving  crowd  was  Taylor  himself.  They  stopped  at  the 
edge  of  the  verandah. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  "  asked  Jim  Bethel,  folding 
his  arms  and  looking  down  at  his  fellow  townsmen  as  if 
they  had  been  strangers  who  intruded  on  the  quiet  of  his 
Sabbath. 

"  We  want  to  see  him."  Half  a  dozen  voices  spoke  at 
once. 

"And  what  do  you  want  of  him?" 

"  We  want  to  ask  some  questions." 

Jim  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I'll  tell  him  you're  here," 
he  said.  "The  house  is  hardly  large  enough  to  hold  all  of 
you." 

"  We'll  stay  where  we  are,"  someone  said,  and  others 
echoed  the  words,  "  Yes,  we'll  stay  where  we  are." 

Mary  Magnus  and  Anna  had  been  watching  from  the 
window  of  the  sitting-room,  and  they  now  came  out  on 
the  verandah.  Anna  was  pale ;  but  Mary  was  calm  and  even 
smiling.  She  had  seen  religious  riots  in  the  Orient,  thou- 
sands of  madmen  struggling  with  each  other;  and  this 
handful  of  farmers  in  their  Sunday  clothes,  who  declared 
they  had  come  to  ask  questions,  did  not  arouse  in  her  mind 

278 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          279 

any  serious  apprehensions.  An  important  part  of  Jesse's 
mission  was  to  answer  questions.  Why  not  here  as  well 
as  anywhere? 

"The  other  mouthpiece,"  she  heard  someone  murmur. 
She  supposed  it  was  a  reference  to  her  singing. 

Jesse  now  appeared  in  the  doorway,  calm  and  beautiful 
as  always.  He  looked  down  at  the  men  and  smiled;  then 
came  to  the  edge  of  the  verandah,  and  said  with  grave  dig- 
nity: 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you.     Ask  me  anything  you  will." 

He  sat  down  in  a  large  armchair,  and  waited  for  their 
questions.  Was  he  weary,  Mary  wondered;  or  did  he  seat 
himself  for  some  subtle  reason  which  she  could  not  fol- 
low? 

"  When  do  you  intend  to  leave  this  place  ?  "  asked  a 
man  whose  face  was  vaguely  familiar  to  Jesse,  but  whose 
name  he  had  forgotten. 

"  I  intend  to  leave  Nashburgh  on  the  train  passing 
through  about  ten  o'clock  to-morrow  morning." 

"  Why  did  you  come  here  ?  "  was  the  next  question. 

"  To  bring  you  the  message  of  the  Spirit." 

"Who  sent  you?" 

'  The  Spirit.'; 

"Whose  spirit?"   demanded   Thomas  Taylor. 

"  The  Spirit  is  not  a  possession,"  Jesse  answered ;  "  it  is 
something  which  possesses." 

"And  do  you  consider  yourself  possessed  by  a  spirit?" 
Taylor  still  questioned. 

Jesse  looked  down  at  him,  half-sternly,  half-pityingly. 

"  Thomas  Taylor,"  he  said,  "  you  are  interpreting  the 
language  of  God  in  the  terms  of  a  petty  sect.  The  Spirit 
I  have  tried  to  reveal  to  you  is  not  one  of  the  irresponsible, 
table-rapping  spirits  which  may  or  may  not  haunt  your  se- 
ance rooms;  but  the  one  and  supreme  Spirit  of  the  universe, 
whose  other  name  is  God." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  say  God,  and  be  done  with  it?  " 
cried  Taylor,  and  other  voices  also  cried,  "  Yes,  why  not 
say  so?  " 

"  There  are  some  words,"  said  Jesse,  "  some  phrases,  that 
have  lost  all  their  potency  by  meaningless  repetitions,  soul- 
less, parrot-like  repetitions.  The  name  of  God  is  often  on 


280          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

your  lips,  but  what  do  you  know  about  God?  His  spirit 
is  not  in  your  hearts." 

"  How  do  you  know  that?  "   they  demanded. 

Jesse  smiled.  "  When  a  tree  puts  forth  no  leaves  in  the 
spring,  we  know  that  the  sap  has  not  risen  in  it.  Why, 
if  the  faith  of  the  Spirit,  the  faith  of  God,  were  really  in 
your  hearts,  you,  too,  could  heal  the  sick,  or  do  any  other 
thing  in  accordance  with  the  will  of  Heaven." 

"  You  have  declared  that  you  are  the  mouthpiece  of  the 
Spirit,"  said  the  schoolmaster  from  the  station  district,  the 
village  logician,  "  and  you  say  that  the  Spirit  is  God.  Then 
your  word  must  be  the  word  of  God.  Is  that  what  you 
would  claim?  " 

"  All  the  powers  of  the  Spirit  are  held  in  trust  by  the 
sons  of  the  Spirit,  even  the  power  of  divine  speech." 

"  Then,  if  you  are  the  chosen  one  of  the  Spirit,"  Taylor 
screamed,  with  an  evil  laugh,  "  take  the  muzzle  off  this 
devil  of  a  dog,  and  make  him  lick  your  face."  He  snatched 
from  the  hand  of  his  hired  man  the  chain  of  a  great  ugly 
black  dog,  and  dragged  the  growling  animal  toward  the 
steps. 

Jesse  raised  his  eyes  to  Jim's  and  smiled.  The  minds  of 
both  flew  back  over  the  years  to  the  young  horse  which 
had  been  known  as  "  Taylor's  devil."  Jim's  eyes  answered 
Jesse's,  but  he  did  not  smile.  He  knew  the  animal  and 
was  afraid. 

"  If  you  urimuzzle  that  dog  and  make  him  lick  your 
face,"  roared  Taylor,  "  may  I  fall  down  in  a  fit  the  next 
minute!  " 

"Rash  man!  Madman!"  exclaimed  Jesse.  "Do  you 
realise  what  you  are  saying?  " 

"  I  know  that  dog,  and  I'm  safe  enough." 

Jesse's  voice  was  calm,  but  in  his  eyes  was  the  sadness 
of  resignation. 

"  You  have  challenged  the  power  of  the  Spirit,"  he  said, 
"  you  have  invoked  the  pitiless,  iron-visaged  Law,  and  even 
I  cannot  protect  you  from  the  reaction  of  that  invocation. 
You  have  summoned  the  same  power  to  smite  that  I  sum- 
mon to  heal.  Do  you  still  demand  that  I  unmuzzle  the 
dog?" 

"  Unmuzzle  him,  yes,  and  let  him  kiss  your  face." 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          281 

"  Why  are  you  fastening  his  chain  to  the  pillar  of  the 
verandah  ?  "  Jesse  asked,  in  a  low,  sweet  voice. 

"  Do  you  think  I'd  let  him  loose  with  all  these  women 
around  ?  " 

"  The  only  women  here  are  the  women  of  my  house- 
hold, and  they  are  protected  by  me." 

"  Don't  unchain  that  dog !  "  cried  a  dozen  men  from  the 
yard  below. 

"  You  had  better  return  to  your  friends,"  Jesse  said  to 
Taylor,  very  gently.  "  I  am  powerless  to  protect  you." 

When  Taylor  had  retreated  to  a  safe  distance,  Jesse 
rested  his  chin  on  his  hand,  looking  at  the  dog  with  tender, 
pitying  eyes.  "  Poor  helpless  victim  of  cruelty !  "  he  mur- 
mured, "dumb  martyr  to  the  dominance  of  man!"  He 
now  leaned  forward  in  his  chair  and  drew  the  dog  toward 
him  by  the  chain.  It  seemed  afraid,  it  trembled,  whining 
and  cowering.  "  Poor  dog,  has  no  one  ever  loved  you  ? " 
Mary,  who  was  watching  with  the  wings  of  her  soul 
aquiver,  saw  Jesse's  tears  fall  on  the  rough  black  head. 
The  animal  raised  its  eyes  to  the  sympathetic  face  above 
it,  and  the  strange  fear  it  had  never  felt  before  gave  way 
to  even  a  stranger  feeling — confidence.  Jesse  stroked  its 
head,  he  ran  his  fingers  along  the  furry  throat,  and  the 
dog  wagged  its  tail  ever  so  little — shyly,  hesitatingly,  as  an 
aged  man  might  falteringly  repeat  some  half-forgotten 
lesson  of  his  childhood.  Still  murmuring  kind  words,  Jesse 
unstrapped  the  muzzle  which  held  the  chafed  mouth  and 
threw  the  torturing  thing  away.  The  animal  gave  a  little 
whine  of  relief  and  shook  himself.  Then  Jesse  smilingly 
unhooked  the  chain  which  held  the  poor  beast's  collar, 
leaving  the  other  end  of  it  still  fastened  to  the  pillar.  The 
dog  was  free. 

"  Come  up,  old  brother,"  cried  Jesse  cheerily,  patting 
his  own  knees  in  signal  to  the  animal,  that  there  was  the 
place  for  his  front  paws.  Up  jumped  the  dog,  his  tail  now 
joyously  thumping  the  verandah  post.  Jesse  bent  forward; 
and  excitedly,  ecstatically  the  dog  licked  his  face,  from  the 
gold  hair  above  the  forehead  to  the  gold  beard  below  the 
beautiful  mouth.  Then  Jesse  gathered  up  the  great  beast 
in  his  arms  and  settled  him  in  his  lap,  looking  over  the 
shaggy  head  at  the  gaping  crowd  below. 


282          THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

"Are  you  satisfied,  my  friends?  "  he  asked. 

A  sigh  of  relief  went  up  from  the  group  behind  him. 

"  Have  you  any  further  questions  to  propound  ?  "  Jesse 
was  still  smiling  at  the  men  in  the  yard. 

But  he  was  never  answered,  for  at  that  moment  Thomas 
Taylor,  with  a  tortured,  inarticulate  cry,  fell  on  the  ground 
in  strong  convulsions.  Then  all  was  excitement.  No  one 
knew  what  to  do.  The  men  below  walked  hither  and 
thither,  talking  wildly;  but  they  did  not  go  near  the  suf- 
ferer. 

"  Can  you  do  nothing  for  him,  Master?"  Peter  cried. 

"  I  am  powerless  to  help  the  man  now,"  was  Jesse's 
answer.  "  The  force  of  his  hatred  for  me  would  kill  him, 
if  he  felt  the  touch  of  my  hand.  Go  you  down,  Peter, 
and  lay  your  hands  upon  him.  He  does  not  hate  you." 

Peter  went  to  the  writhing  man  on  the  ground;  he  held 
his  arms  and  talked  to  him,  while  the  crowd  looked  on  with 
amazement  in  their  eyes. 

When  Taylor  finally  became  quiet,  his  companions  took 
one  of  the  shutters  from  a  window  of  the  house,  and  using 
it  as  a  stretcher,  four  of  them  carried  him  slowly  home 
down  the  green  road  by  which  he  had  come  with  sturdy 
strides  only  half  an  hour  before.  But  the  black  dog  re- 
mained behind. 

Was  it  the  weight  of  his  own  baffled  rage  that  had 
stricken  the  man  down?  Was  it  the  power  of  his  invo- 
cation of  the  Great  Law — his  challenge  flung  in  the  face 
of  God?  Or  was  it  one  of  those  coincidences  which  the 
enemies  of  Jesse,  the  disbelievers  in  his  mission,  were 
always  seeing  in  the  strange  happenings  that  followed  his 
track  across  the  world? 

"  I  would  have  shielded  him  had  I  been  able  to  do  so," 
Jesse  said  to  his  friends,  as  they  sat  around  the  table  at 
their  belated  dinner;  "but  no  man  may  turn  aside  the 
lightning  of  the  Law.  He  who  chains  himself  to  his  own 
hearthstone  and  sets  fire  to  the  house,  will  perish  in  the 
flames.  Taylor  will  recover;  he  did  not  call  upon  God 
to  kill  him — only  to  strike  him  down.  Oh,  my  friends," 
Jesse  continued,  "  beware  of  hatred !  It  is  a  poison  cor- 
rupting the  body  as  well  as  the  soul;  it  is  a  venom  in  the 
blood,  a  madness  in  the  brain.  Even  the  resentment  you 


THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL          283 

feel  for  one  who  has  injured  you  will  hurt  you  more,*han 
the  injury  itself.  Taylor  knew  I  would  remove  the  muz- 
zle from  that  dog,  and  he  believed  the  dog  would  lacerate 
my  face.  Had  one  throb  of  resentment  toward  him  tingled 
in  my  blood,  his  evil  wish  had  been  fulfilled." 

"  Master,  what  did  you  do  to  the  dog?  "  It  was  John 
who  spoke. 

Jesse  answered:  "  I  cast  out  of  him  the  spirit  of  his 
former  master,  by  substituting  my  own.  It  is  easier  to 
control  an  animal  than  a  man,  because  man  has  a  spark 
from  the  flame  of  the  divine  will.  He  chooses  his  own 
course;  while  the  course  of  the  animal  is  chosen  for  him, 
by  Nature  or  by  man." 

The  next  day  Jim  Bethel  left  his  new-mewn  hay  upon 
the  ground,  his  waving  grain  untouched  by  the  sickle,  his 
wife  to  the  care  of  his  brother,  and  enrolled  himself  among 
the  followers  of  Jesse.  Eva  and  Joe,  the  brother,  were 
destined  also  to  join  them  in  the  fulness  of  time;  but  their 
day  was  not  yet  come.  As  for  Marty  White,  no  river 
would  have  been  too  wide  for  him  to  swim,  no  mountain 
peak  too  steep  for  him  to  climb,  if  by  so  doing  he  might 
have  walked  with  his  friend. 

They  were  a  hopeful  company  that  went  to  the  Nash- 
burgh  station  the  following  morning  to  take  the  train 
for  Capronville.  Eva  gave  her  husband  to  Jesse's  cause 
without  a  tear — not  that  she  loved  him  little,  but  that 
she  loved  him  much.  Less  than  three  days  had  Jesse  been 
with  them;  but  in  that  brief  time  their  hearts  had  been 
changed.  They  had  always  taken  for  granted  that  they 
loved  each  other,  but  now  they  asked  themselves  if  they 
loved  other  people;  if  perhaps  their  very  absorption  in 
home  and  the  domestic  love  had  not  narrowed  their  feelings 
a  little,  had  not  built  a  wall  between  them  and  the  fresh 
life-giving  breezes  of  fraternity  that  blow  across  the  wider 
world.  Eva  felt,  when  she  consented  to  Jim's  going,  as 
the  queen  of  some  little,  isolated  kingdom  might  feel  on 
sending  her  first  ambassador  to  a  great  world  parliament. 
She  wore  her  crown  of  wifehood  with  a  more  conscious 
dignity. 

There  was  a  crowd  at  the  station.     The  feelings  aroused 


284          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

by  Jesse  in  the  hearts  of  his  fellow  citizens  were  a  mixture 
of  curiosity,  admiration  and  resentment.  They  were  glad 
that  he  was  going  away,  they  would  breathe  more  freely 
when  they  had  seen  the  last  of  him;  but  they  wanted  to 
see  the  last  of  him.  Hence  the  crowd  at  the  station. 

Three  wagons  were  coming  down  the  Creek  Road. 
Jesse  and  the  men  from  Capronville  were  with  Jim  and 
Eva  in  the  carryall;  Mary  and  Anna  came  with  Stephen 
and  Susie  Smith  in  their  two-seated  wagon,  and  Joe  Bethel 
and  Marty  came  behind  in  the  one-horse  buggy.  The 
crowd  on  the  platform  waited  breathlessly.  The  rumour 
had  gone  round  that  Jim  Bethel  was  going  to  leave  his 
wife  and  follow  Jesse,  so  the  latest  charge  against  the 
new  religion  and  its  founder  was  "  the  breaking  up  of 
homes."  Had  Eva's  husband  left  her  for  any  other  cause, 
the  gossip  of  Nashburgh  would  have  hinted  darkly  at  flaws 
in  her  character;  but  as  it  was,  they  were  ready  to  give 
her  the  wreath  of  martyrdom,  so  they  might  strip  hare  the 
stalk  of  Jesse's  honour  for  leaves  with  which  to  weave  it. 

Thomas  Taylor  had  recovered  from  his  seizure  of  the 
day  before  sufficiently  to  go  to  the  station.  Pale  and  hag- 
gard, and  with  an  unnatural  glitter  in  his  eyes,  he  watched 
the  three  wagons  coming  down  the  road.  The  postmaster, 
who  had  himself  brought  over  the  bag  of  mail  that  morning, 
did  not  like  the  looks  of  Taylor,  and  watched  him  closely. 
The  postmaster's  wife  had  recently  been  sent  to  an  insane 
asylum,  and  he  would  always  feel  vague  apprehensions  at 
the  sight  of  preternaturally  brilliant  eyes  set  in  a  haggard 
face. 

The  horses  which  had  brought  the  travellers  were  tied 
to  the  fence  near  the  bridge,  and  the  little  group  of  twelve 
persons  came  down  to  the  station  together.  From  their 
appearance  they  might  have  been  a  care-free  picnic  party, 
setting  out  for  a  day's  pleasure;  not  the  nucleus  of  a  great 
religious  movement  that  should  carry  everything  before 
it.  They  were  early  at  the  station,  though  not  so  early 
as  the  waiting  crowd.  The  first  sound  wafted  to  the 
listening  ears  on  the  platform  was  the  ripple  of  Eva's 
laughter,  inspired  by  some  remark  of  the  grimly  humourous 
Peter.  The  wreath  of  wifely  martyrdom  would  lie  lightly 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          285 

on  her  brown  hair.  Mary  Magnus  walked  ahead  with 
John,  and  Jesse  came  last  with  Andrew. 

"  Harmless  looking  crowd,"  smiled  Olin  Madison,  who 
was  inclined  to  take  the  whole  affair  as  a  joke.  But  Tay- 
lor glared  at  him  without  a  word.  Well  might  Olin 
smile,  that  dark  look  seemed  to  say,  he  had  not  fallen  in  a 
fit  the  day  before. 

"  Eight  tickets  for  Capronville,"  said  Peter  Bond  at 
the  office  window.  Then  the  crowd  knew  for  certain  that 
Jim  was  leaving  town. 

"  Going  to  help  your  cousin  transform  the  world  ?  " 
asked  a  voice  in  his  ear. 

"  I'm  going  to  do  my  best,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Have  you  got  those  bonds  in  your  satchel  ?  "  asked 
another  voice.  This  question  was  ignored. 

"  Mail-train  twenty  minutes  late,"  called  the  station- 
master,  as  he  passed  along  the  platform. 

"  Let  us  go  and  walk  on  the  hill  over  there,"  said  Jesse 
to  the  men  of  his  party.  He  preferred  his  last  memory 
of  Nashburgh  to  be  of  the  green  fields  and  the  trees,  not 
of  these  curious  and  unfriendly  faces. 

"  I'll  stay  behind  with  Eva,"  Jim  said,  as  the  other 
men  started  down  the  platform.  Mary  and  Anna  also 
remained  in  the  waiting-room. 

West  of  the  station  was  a  hill,  one  side  of  it  a  gentle 
grassy  slope,  the  other  side  a  sheer  and  rocky  declivity. 
Scarcely  had  Jesse  and  his  companions  reached  the  top, 
and  turned  to  look  at  the  long  blue  range  of  mountains, 
when  they  became  aware  that  they  were  not  to  have  this 
last  half-hour  for  the  quiet  enjoyment  of  nature.  Two- 
thirds  of  the  station  crowd  were  following.  But  were  the 
men  following  them,  or  were  they  following  Thomas  Tay- 
lor? 

Going  before  the  others,  with  his  head  down,  kicking 
the  stones  out  of  his  path  with  impotent  fury,  the  im- 
placable hater  of  Jesse  Bethel  came  up  the  hill.  He  stopped 
some  ten  feet  from  the  man  he  sought,  and  the  other  Nash- 
burgh men,  including  the  postmaster,  stopped  with  him. 
Jesse  was  standing  on  the  very  peak  above  the  rocky 
precipice. 


286          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

Suddenly,  with  a  bellow  like  that  of  an  angry  bull, 
Taylor  made  a  rush  for  the  object  of  his  wrath. 

"Stop  him!"  .  .  .  "  Close  in  on  him !"  .  .  . 
"He'll  throw  Jesse  off  _ the  cliff!"  .  .  .  "He's  lost 
his  mind!  "...  cried  the  jumble  of  voices;  and 
Jesse  saw  Taylor  surrounded  by  the  other  men.  He  was 
screaming,  striking  with  his  fists,  kicking  with  his  feet, 
hurling  his  great  form  to  and  fro  in  the  rage  of  his  madness. 

"  Get  a  rope,"  cried  the  voice  of  the  postmaster,  "  we'll 
have  to  tie  him  down.  I  tell  you,  he's  gone  insane ! " 
And  one  of  the  men  rushed  off  to  the  store  for  the  means 
of  harsh  restraint. 

"Oh,  come  away!"  said  Jesse.     "Come  away!" 

They  returned  to  the  station  building,  and  the  men  who 
had  not  followed  Taylor  met  them  at  the  end  of  the 
platform;  for  everyone  had  seen  and  heard  the  tumult  on 
the  hill.  Eva  and  Anna  were  crying  wildly  in  the  waiting- 
room,  but  Mary  was  tearless  and  utterly  still;  she  hardly 
seemed  to  breathe;  all  the  life  of  her  body  was  burning  in 
her  eyes. 

John  came  and  touched  her  cold  hand.  "  He  is  safe, 
sister,"  he  breathed  to  her.  "  Oh,  will  the  train  never 
come  and  carry  us  away  from  this  place ! ' 

Mary's  white  lips  moved,  but  no  sound  came. 

"Why,  he'd  have  thrown  you  off  the  cliff!  "  was  Olin 
Madison's  rather  obvious  remark  to  Jesse. 

"  What  have  they  done  with  him  ?  "  It  was  the  first 
time  Jesse  had  spoken  since  they  left  the  hill. 

"  Tied  him  down  in  the  baggage-room." 

"Will  you  ask  them,  for  me,  to  treat  him  gently?" 

Olin  never  forgot  the  look  in  Jesse's  eyes  as  he  made 
this  last  and  strange  request  of  the  citizens  of  Nashburgh. 
And  as  the  belated  train  drew  into  the  station  at  last, 
the  request  was  repeated: 

"  Please  tell  them  to  treat  him  gently — for  my  sake." 


CHAPTER  XLV 

IT  was  on  the  train  going  to  Capronville  that  Jesse 
learned  that  the  wandering  Hermit  had  been  cast  into  prison 
in  the  North,  for  some  defiant  violation  of  the  laws  of 
order.  The  news  saddened  him,  even  more  than  the  tragic 
incident  of  their  last  hour  in  Nashburgh.  Not  only  had 
he  failed  to  convince  the  people  in  his  native  town  of  the 
greatness  of  his  mission ;  but  the  austere  and  authoritative 
friend  who  had  proclaimed  him,  and  by  so  doing  had  made 
easier  the  early  steps  on  his  hard  road,  was  for  the  time 
discredited  in  popular  opinion.  The  agitator  in  prison 
may  be  considered  a  hero  in  some  places;  he  is  not  so 
considered  in  Vermont. 

For  some  minutes  after  hearing  the  disastrous  news  Jesse 
allowed  the  shadows  to  lie  upon  his  heart  and  upon  his 
face.  He  was  not  only  grieved  at  his  friend's  imprison- 
ment, but  grieved  at  this  new  proof  of  the  disagreement 
between  the  Law  of  God  and  the  laws  of  man.  And  he 
knew  that  when  the  time  came  to  send  forth  his  own 
disciples,  they  might  any  day  be  tested  in  this  same  fur- 
nace of  the  world's  power.  Would  they  meet  the  trial  as 
John  was  surely  meeting  it — they  wTho  were  still  babes 
in  the  great  school  of  faith?  Of  danger  to  himself  he  had 
no  dread.  As  he  had  told  his  mother  long  ago,  "  The  price 
of  the  song  is  the  singer."  She  had  trembled  at  the  words, 
though  she  hardly  understood  their  meaning.  He  who  un- 
derstood profoundly,  trembled  not  at  all;  but  the  shadows 
lay  upon  his  heart  and  upon  his  face. 

"  Do  not  grieve,  Master." 

It  was  the  sweet,  appealing  voice  of  John,  and  his  eyes 
were  raised  to  his  teacher's  face,  as  they  sat  side  by  side  in 
the  crowded  car.  That  gentle  presence  was  a  pale  candle- 
flame  struggling  with  the  gloom  of  his  mood.  How  little 
the  boy  knew,  in  his  mystic  adoration  of  the  Idea,  the 
awful  reality  of  Jesse's  mission !  He  said,  "  Master,  do 

287 


288          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

not  grieve " ;  but  there  was  so  much  more  to  grieve  for 
than  he  knew.  The  imprisonment  of  the  Hermit  was  more 
than  a  mere  fact;  it  was  a  symbol  of  the  Spirit's  imprison- 
ment in  the  jail  of  human  society. 

Jesse  had  dwelt  so  intimately  with  the  idea  of  the  Spirit, 
that  he  loved  it  even  as  his  friends  loved  him.  And  it 
came  to  him  now  that  the  light  of  the  Spirit,  though  always 
burning  in  him,  was  obscured  for  the  moment  by  this  cloud 
of  sadness,  as  the  light  of  a  lamp  is  darkened  by  a  clouded 
globe.  Then  with  an  effort  of  will  he  cleared  his  con- 
sciousness of  every  darkening  thought,  and  the  great  light 
shone  once  more  upon  his  path.  He  would  succeed  in 
Capronville. 

"  John,"  he  said,  "  and  Andrew  and  Peter,"  turning  to 
include  the  two  who  sat  in  the  seat  behind  him,  "  this  is 
not  the  hour  to  weaken  our  souls  with  grief  for  that  which 
cannot  be  changed.  A  great  labour  lies  just  ahead  of  us. 
That  I  have  healed  men's  souls  and  bodies  in  the  North 
will  not  avail  me  here.  To  conquer  in  one  battle  does  not 
make  a  mighty  warrior.  Are  you  ready  now  to  charge 
with  me  as  you  have  never  charged  before?  Is  your  faith 
booted  and  spurred  with  will  ?  " 

Their  eyes  glistened,  their  breath  was  long  and  deep 
as  they  answered  yes,  and  Jesse  saw  that  they  were  indeed 
ready. 

The  crowd  at  the  Nashburgh  station  was  a  mere  hand- 
ful compared  with  the  crowd  that  awaited  their  arrival  at 
the  station  in  Capronville.  Judson's  failure,  should  he 
ever  fail,  would  not  be  from  a  lack  of  zeal  in  advertising 
his  master;  for  the  light  of  Jesse's  glory  was  reflected  upon 
his  friends,  and  Judson  loved  glory  as  they  only  love  it 
who  have  known  the  opposite.  Every  waking  hour  of  the 
three  days  since  his  return  he  had  spent  in  preparing  for 
this  demonstration  of  public  interest  in  Jesse.  Judson  had 
few  personal  friends,  but  Peter  and  Andrew  and  John  had 
many;  and  it  was  through  the  popularity  of  these  that  he 
did  his  most  effective  work.  He  could  not  ask  men  as 
a  favour  to  him  to  go  in  a  body  to  meet  the  returning 
travellers;  but  he  could  arouse  their  curiosity,  and  pique 
their  incredulity,  and  excite  their  enthusiasm,  by  the 
stories  he  told  of  the  great  preacher's  success  in  the  North, 


THE    SON    OF    MARY   BETHEL          289 

of  the  beautiful  and  rich  woman  who  had  embraced  the 
new  religion,  and  especially  of  the  devotion  of  Peter  and 
Andrew  and  John.  In  all  these  announcements  he  named 
the  hour  and  the  train  by  which  the  triumphant  party  would 
arrive. 

As  religious  movements  can  only  live  and  grow  by  the 
enthusiasm  of  many  people,  this  way  of  Judson's  was  not 
a  bad  way.  He  had  been  told  by  Jesse  to  prepare  for  his 
coming,  and  this  was  his  interpretation  of  the  trust  im- 
posed. He  loved  Jesse  as  he  had  never  before  loved  any- 
body, and  he  wanted  him  to  shine,  not  only  in  the  North 
where  Judson  Carey  was  unknown,  but  here  in  Capron- 
ville  where  he  was  very  well  known,  indeed.  His  rein- 
statement in  the  favour  of  Peter  Bond  had  meant  more 
to  him  than  anyone  knew,  save  Jesse.  Self-love  is  innate; 
but  self-respect  is  more  or  less  dependent  upon  the  respect 
of  others.  Even  his  coat  now  set  more  squarely  on  his 
shoulders;  his  very  back  had  straightened  with  his  belief 
in  his  own  straightness.  Something  more  than  divine  pity 
had  drawn  Jesse  to  this  man;  there  was  in  him  the  force, 
the  passion,  that  is  the  great  dynamo  for  success  in  good 
or  evil.  Neither  John  nor  Peter,  with  all  their  advantages 
of  popularity,  would  have  done  so  much  in  those  three  days 
as  he  had  done.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  depreciation 
of  Jesse  in  Nashburgh,  which  only  strengthened  the  devo- 
tion of  those  other  men,  would  have  made  Judson  doubt- 
ing and  discouraged.  As  it  was,  he  knew  nothing  which 
would  have  dampened  his  ardour. 

When  the  train  bearing  Jesse  and  his  seven  friends  drew 
into  the  station  at  Capronville,  they  were  surprised  at  the 
mass  of  people;  and  the  faces  they  saw  were  not  like  those 
they  had  left  behind  at  Nashburgh,  unfriendly  or  uncer- 
tain; these  faces  were  alight  with  interest  and  smiling  with 
sympathy.  Jesse's  heart  grew  warm  and  his  courage  high 
at  the  first  sight  of  them.  He  could  preach  the  imma- 
nence of  the  Spirit  to  those  men  and  women,  for  their  eyes 
were  aflame  with  it. 

As  he  came  out  of  the  train  they  gathered  round  him, 
smiling  and  holding  out  their  hands.  These  were  his  first 
words  to  them: 

"  They  who  go  out  to  meet  the  Spirit,  bring  the  Spirit 


290          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

also  with  them.  You  have  a  message  for  me,  even  as  I 
for  you." 

"When  will  you  speak  to  us?"  they  cried.  "When 
may  we  listen  to  your  words?" 

He  turned  to  counsel  with  Judson,  who  had  arranged 
for  the  use  of  the  largest  church  in  the  town  that  very 
evening. 

"  To-night,"  he  said,  naming  the  hour  and  the  place, 
"  we  will  meet  with  one  another,  and  invite  the  Spirit  to 
be  present." 

He  would  have  preached  to  them  then  and  there,  but 
it  was  nearly  one  o'clock,  the  time  when  the  labourer  re- 
turns to  his  work  after  the  respite  of  the  noon-hour;  and 
he  knew  they  would  all  be  at  the  appointed  place,  bringing 
others  with  them. 

"  Weave  and  measure  and  hammer  thoughts  of  me  into 
your  work  this  afternoon,"  were  his  parting  words  to  a 
little  group  of  men  who  seemed  reluctant  to  leave  him. 

While  Jesse  was  thanking  Judson  for  the  visible  proof 
of  his  activity  in  the  service  of  their  cause,  he  noticed  a 
tall,  brown-haired  young  man  of  about  thirty  years  of 
age  standing  beside  John,  and  waiting  as  if  to  speak  to 
him. 

"  My  brother  James,"  was  John's  response  to  Jesse's 
look  of  invitation;  and  the  young  man  eagerly  came  for- 
ward and  placed  his  hands  in  Jesse's. 

"  I  have  thought  of  nothing  but  you  since  John  first 
went  with  you  to  Burlington,"  was  his  impulsive  greet- 
ing. 

Jesse  answered:  "  May  you  think  of  nothing  but  me 
and  the  Spirit  that  I  serve  from  this  time  on,  for  ever." 
And  James  Dana  was  numbered  among  his  followers  from 
that  hour. 

Among  the  faces  around  him  Jesse  saw  one  which  drew 
him  by  its  look  of  tender  melancholy.  It  was  that  of  a 
young  man  with  jet-black  hair  and  eyes,  and  whose  sensi- 
tive mouth  was  shaded  by  a  long  drooping  moustache  of 
the  same  hue.  His  skin  was  of  a  pale  ivory-colour,  and 
the  dark  coat  he  wore  hung  loosely  around  his  tall  and 
slender  body.  Without  knowing  who  he  was,  guided  only 
by  that  infallible  intuition  which  often  made  him  seem 


THE    SON    OF    MARY   BETHEL          291 

omniscient,  Jesse  touched  the  arm  of  the  strange  young 
man,  saying: 

"  You  are  one  of  those  who  are  chosen  to  follow  me." 

"I,  who  am  so  imperfect?"  The  sombre  eyes  were  lit 
with  a  strange  fire. 

"  They  who  are  too  certain  of  their  perfectness,"  replied 
Jesse,  "  will  never  follow  a  prophet;  they  seek  rather  to 
be  followed  by  those  less  self-righteous  than  themselves." 

"  My  name  is  Philip  Manning,"  the  dark  young  man 
said  simply,  "  and  I  was  born  in  the  same  place  as  Peter 
and  Andrew  Bond." 

"  And  you  shall  go  to  the  same  place  they  go  to— the 
home  that  is  builded  on  the  rock  of  faith,  by  the  hands  of 
the  Unseen." 

"  And  I  may  help  you  in  your  work?  " 

"Yes,  from  this  moment.  Go  now  up  yonder  street, 
and  do  whatever  work  the  Spirit  bids  you." 

Surprised  and  half-bewildered  by  the  suddenness  of  his 
call  to  this  new  faith  which  he  but  vaguely  understood, 
Philip  turned  away  and  went  up  the  street,  looking  to  the 
right  and  left — for  what,  he  did  not  know.  He  had  gone 
but  a  few  rods  when  he  saw  a  friend  of  his  walking  slowly 
along  in  the  same  direction.  Like  a  flash  it  came  to  him: 
this  was  the  unknown  errand  on  which  he  had  been  sent. 

Calling  his  friend  to  stop,  he  told  him  all  that  he  knew 
and  felt  about  Jesse  Bethel,  adding: 

"  He  is  down  at  the  station  now;  come  and  see  for  your- 
self." 

Jesse  greeted  this  man,  Nathan  Evans,  by  his  full  name, 
though  he  had  never  seen  him  before,  and  told  the  sub- 
stance of  his  conversation  with  Philip,  picturing  the  place 
where  they  had  met. 

"  If  you  can  see  what  people  do  at  such  a  distance,  and 
hear  what  they  say,"  cried  the  astonished  man,  "  then  in- 
deed you  must  be  all  that  John  the  Hermit  claimed !  " 

Jesse  answered:  "  Do  you  believe  in  me  because  I  men- 
tion a  certain  place  which  you  must  have  passed  in  order 
to  come  here?  Do  you  believe  in  me  because  I  know  what 
Philip  would  be  certain  to  speak  to  you,  and  because  I 
greet  you  by  the  name  John  spoke  when  he  saw  you  com- 
ing? All  that  is  nothing.  Not  every  man  who  is  really 


292          THE    SON    OF    MARY   BETHEL 

gifted  with  psychic  sight  and  hearing  is  a  safe  guide  to  fol- 
low. But  should  you  know  a  man  who  prefers  his 
neighbour's  interest  to  his  own,  though  he  be  deaf  and 
blind,  you  will  find  him  a  safe  guide  to  follow." 

"  You  are  what  I  have  always  wished  to  see,"  said 
Nathan  Evans,  his  eyes  wide  with  admiration. 

"  And  through  me,"  replied  Jesse,  "  you  shall  also  be- 
hold the  Invisible,  and  feel  the  very  touch  of  the  intangible 
Spirit." 


CHAPTER  XLVI 

JESSE'S  fame  in  Capronville  was  given  immediate  impetus 
by  the  first  cure  he  performed  there,  for  the  story  of  it  was 
repeated  all  over  town  before  nightfall. 

Leaving  the  station,  they  went  to  the  house  of  Peter 
Bond — Jesse  and  his  personal  followers,  old  and  new. 
There  he  found  the  mother  of  Mrs.  Bond  lying  sick  upon 
her  bed ;  and  by  a  touch  of  his  magnetic  hand,  he  raised  her 
immediately  to  active  health  and  cheerfulness,  and  she  went 
about  her  duties  of  the  household,  helping  to  prepare  din- 
ner for  the  young  Master  and  the  friends  who  came  with 
him  from  the  North. 

The  mother  of  Peter's  wife,  old  Mrs.  Lewis,  was  well 
known  for  her  rugged  virtues  and  her  charities;  and  a  wise 
Providence  could  not  have  chosen  a  better  instrument  in 
all  the  town  for  the  demonstration  of  Jesse's  power.  To 
rich  and  poor  alike,  her  very  name  suggested  loving  service 
in  affliction.  Within  half  an  hour  the  story  of  her  recov- 
ery was  well  started  on  its  round ;  and  the  picture  of  Jesse 
in  the  popular  mind,  hitherto  a  vague  outline,  suddenly  as- 
sumed colour  and  brilliancy. 

Immediately  after  the  midday  dinner  Mary  Magnus, 
with  Andrew  and  Anna  and  John,  went  away  on  some 
mysterious  errand.  At  the  table  Judson  had  casually  men- 
tioned that  there  was  a  good  organ  in  the  church  he  had 
secured  for  Jesse's  sermon  that  night,  and  Mary  had  ex- 
changed smiles  and  meaning  glances  with  the  other  mem- 
bers of  their  choir.  Jesse,  who  divined  everything  before 
it  happened,  knew  there  would  be  another  song. 

He  had  no  seclusion  that  day,  for  a  steady  stream  of 
villagers  climbed  the  hill  to  Peter's  house,  to  see  and  talk 
with  the  new  teacher.  There  were  no  sick  among  them, 
but  almost  everyone  had  questions  to  ask;  and  as  all  who 
came  were  reluctant  to  go  away,  the  house  and  dooryard 

293 


294          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

were  alive  with  the  moving  throng  from  dinner-time  to 
sunset. 

That  night  the  church  was  crowded.  There  was  not 
even  standing-room  for  the  late  comers,  and  Jesse  was 
obliged  to  place  his  friends  behind  him  on  the  platform,  in 
order  to  make  space  for  a  few  more  persons  below.  Even 
the  steps  leading  to  the  choir-loft  were  packed  with  men 
and  women. 

Mary  had  called  on  the  organist  of  the  church  late  in 
the  afternoon,  with  the  music  of  the  new  song  and  the  old 
one;  and  by  the  charm  of  her  beauty  had  persuaded  the 
half-reluctant  young  man  (who  had  never  seen  Jesse)  to 
play  for  them  that  evening. 

When  every  seat  and  every  foot  of  standing-room  in  the 
church  were  rilled  with  the  expectant  throng,  the  tones  of 
the  organ  rolled  out  above  their  heads.  Then  Jesse  arose 
to  listen  to  the  song  of  the  Spirit  he  adored;  for  though 
they  sang  of  him,  he  told  himself  it  was  the  Spirit  in  him 
that  inspired  the  singing,  and  he  listened  for  this  new  ex- 
pression of  their  love  with  soul  and  body  tremulous  with 
emotion.  The  great  voice  of  Mary  touched  and  caressed 
the  voice  of  the  organ,  and  the  lesser  voices  mingled  with 
hers. 


"Before  the  young  bird  breaks  the  shell, 

It  has  no  voice  for  song, 
No  dream  of  all  the  winds  will  tell 

When  summer  days  are  long. 
Before  we  heard  our  Master's  word, 

And  broke  our  soul's  dark  shell, 
We  knew  no  more  than  that  young  bird 

Of  all  that  life  can  tell. 

"  Under  the  ground  the  roots  lie  warm, 

And  wait  the  quickening  hour 
When  Spring  shall  call  them,  and  transform 

Their  sap  to  leaf  and  flower. 
Your  souls  have  slept  through  many  springs, 

But  God  has  kept  them  warm; 
And  now  the  love  our  Master  brings 

Shall  wake  you  and  transform. 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          295 

"  O  dwellers  in  the  busy  world, 

Your  toils  and  tears  are  vain ; 
From  birth  to  death  your  souls  are  whirled 

Around  the  wheel  of  pain. 
But  now  our  Master,  armed  with  might, 

Shall  change  you  and  the  world, 
And  round  the  Spirit's  wheel  of  light 

Your  souls  will  yet  be  whirled." 

There  was  a  charm,  like  that  of  childhood,  in  the  naive 
lines  of  this  untaught  singer,  Anna  Martin,  with  their 
quaint  conceits  and  nature  images — the  spontaneous  ex- 
pression of  a  simple  heart,  which  found  its  parallels  for 
spiritual  emotions  in  the  every-day  experiences  of  the  farm 
and  the  woodland.  Almost  everyone  in  the  great  audience 
realised  that  this  was  a  song  composed  for  the  occasion, 
and  the  sublime  daring  of  so  exalting  a  man  of  their  own 
time  aroused  in  them  a  surprised  admiration.  Before 
their  minds  had  time  to  react,  to  doubt,  to  question,  Jesse 
began  to  teach  them.  He  said: 

"  To  be  fearless,  and  free  from  anxiety,  is  the  a,  b,  c,  of 
faith. 

"  Doubt  and  anxiety  are  spendthrifts  that  waste  the 
substance  of  the  soul. 

"  That  man  who  through  all  the  changes  of  life,  in  for- 
tune and  misfortune,  pain  and  pleasure,  strife  and  peace, 
preserves  an  even  faith,  shall  be  untouched  by  change, 
misfortune,  pain  and  strife. 

"  Until  you  can  hear  the  melody  of  life  in  the  raucous 
cries  of  the  market-place  and  in  the  roar  of  the  field  of 
battle,  know  that  your  ears  are  not  attuned  to  the  eternal 
harmony. 

"  When  you  are  unconcerned  as  to  the  outcome  of  the 
battle,  and  yet  fight  valiantly,  know  that  the  battle  is 
going  your  way;  for  either  way  is  your  way,  when  you 
are  one  with  the  will  of  Life. 

"  What  you  take  for  cries  of  pain  and  pleasure  from 
the  lips  of  your  fellow  men,  are  really  the  tones  of  the 
immortal  mass  which  Life  plays  upon  the  organ  of  Eter- 
nity. But  if,  in  your  absorption  in  the  music,  you  neglect 


296          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

to  still  one  cry  of  pain  which  may  be  stilled,  then  will  a 
discord  mar  the  harmony. 

"  Fear  nothing.  If  the  hand  of  the  disciple  trembles 
when  he  knocks  at  the  door  of  wisdom,  the  door  will  not 
be  opened.  Only  he  who  can  take,  shall  have. 

"You  can  never  look  God  in  the  face  so  long  as  you 
fear  the  eye  of  the  Devil,  his  opposite. 

"  He  who  fears  anything,  even  his  own  failure,  has  not 
learned  the  powers  that  lie  in  the  awakened  soul. 

"  It  is  only  when  the  mind  is  darkened  by  anxiety  that 
one  sees  adverse  omens. 

"  A  lion  in  the  daytime  is  far  less  terrible  than  a  com- 
mon wildcat  in  the  night. 

"  Accept  every  disappointment  as  the  promise  of  some 
other  attainment — for  the  balance  must  be  preserved. 

"  He  who  has  faith  in  the  Spirit  will  not  be  disturbed 
by  the  shifting  appearances  of  matter.  A  man  who  does 
not  live  his  religion  does  not  believe  his  religion. 

"  Know  that  the  mountain  whose  cloud-crowned  height 
is  the  goal  of  your  aspiration,  is  based  on  the  rock  which 
so  cruelly  tears  your  feet. 

"  He  who  is  afraid  of  anything  can  never  face  the  dragon 
of  evil  and  set  his  heel  upon  it. 

"  He  shall  succeed  who  does  not  fear  to  fail.  He  shall 
attain  who  would  sacrifice  the  attainment.  He  shall  live 
who  is  not  afraid  to  die. 

"  Fearlessness,  guided  by  caution,  will  finally  unveil  all 
the  guarded  secrets  of  Nature^and  of  God. 

"  Life  is  a  nettle  that,  touched  too  carefully,  will  sting 
and  irritate  the  flesh;  but  fearlessly  and  firmly  grasped,  is 
harmless  as  a  rose-leaf. 

"  You  who  believe  in  the  power  and  wisdom  of  the 
Spirit,  fear  not  to  put  your  faith  to  the  trial.  A  golden 
truth  is  of  no  real  value  to  a  man  until  he  has  tested  it 
with  the  acid  of  his  own  experience. 

"  If  your  faith  in  the  Spirit  were  as  great  as  your  faith 
in  matter,  you  would  accumulate  spiritual  treasures  and 
touch  the  souls  of  men. 

"  Do  not  fear  the  surface-judgments  of  your  fellow  beings. 
He  who  is  too  careful  never  to  seem  ridiculous,  will  never 
trust  himself  to  be  sublime. 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          297 

"  The  world  is  not  moved  by  rules  of  conduct ;  it  is 
moved  by  faith. 

"  You  sow  and  plant  in  the  spring,  and  wait  long  months 
for  the  harvest;  how  much  greater  should  your  faith  be 
in  those  spiritual  seeds  which  can  neither  rot  in  the  ground 
nor  be  eaten  by  crows. 

"And  do  not  be  discouraged  when  you  seem  to  have 
made  a  mistake.  Nature  is  more  experienced  than  you,  yet 
she  produces  many  a  crooked  tree  and  blights  many  a  har- 
vest. 

"  Perseverance  is  the  cord  which  holds  together  the  pearls 
of  endeavour.  Without  it  they  are  scattered  along  the  high- 
way of  life,  and  are  lost  to  the  owner." 

He  told  these  people  of  Capronville,  as  he  always  told  his 
audiences,  of  the  Spirit  dwelling  in  their  souls,  the  Power 
of  which  their  lives  were  the  expression.  He  compared  the 
Spirit  to  a  candle-flame,  their  souls  to  the  light,  their  minds 
to  the  wick,  their  bodies  to  the  wax  which  is  consumed. 

"  Be  not  surprised  when  I  say  that  your  souls  are  the 
light  of  the  Spirit's  flame.  Your  souls  are  one  with  the 
flame,  one  with  the  Spirit,  wherever  the  Spirit  is  expressed. 
As  fire  is  latent  in  all  matter,  so  is  the  Spirit;  and  as  fire 
can  express  itself  only  through  something  which  burns, 
so  the  Spirit  can  express  itself  as  soul-light  upon  the  earth 
only  through  the  mind  of  beings.  Oh,  little  do  you  realise 
the  power  and  wonder  of  yourselves!  You  are  really  one 
with  the  Spirit — with  God — and  God  is  one. 

"  The  pleasures  and  pains,  the  struggles  and  attain- 
ments of  the  many  are  only  the  passing  experiences  of  the 
One;  and  in  order  better  to  understand  the  existence  of 
that  One,  we  call  it  God.  But  it  is  really  ourself. 

"  God  and  the  soul  are  one.  What  the  soul  perceives 
through  the  senses  is  the  many. 

"  If  the  One  is  eternal,  and  you  are  the  One,  then  must 
you  be  eternal. 

"  The  Spirit  is  everywhere,  either  latent  or  expressed. 
Wherever  you  find  what  seems  to  be  a  void,  look  deeper: 
you  have  found  a  room  in  the  house  of  God. 

"  Look  for  the  still  place  in  the  centre  of  the  world's 
confusion:  God  is  there. 

"  They   who   think  only  with   the  material   surface   of 


298          THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL 

their  minds  may  say  that  all  this  talk  about  the  Spirit  is 
unreal.  But  what  is  reality?  Reality  is  the  power  which 
holds  appearances  together,  and  that  power  is  God — the 
Spirit." 

The  audience  was  utterly  motionless,  gazing  up  at  him. 
It  was  not  only  that  his  words  excited  their  imagination ; 
but  the  man  himself  convinced  them  by  his  very  presence. 
To  use  his  own  simile  of  the  candle,  his  mind  was  a  wick 
of  many  strands,  which  fed  so  well  the  flame  of  the  Spirit 
that  his  light  was  as  the  light  of  a  myriad  lesser  souls,  il- 
luminating everything  within  the  radius  of  its  effulgence. 

They  had  no  idea  of  how  long  he  stood  there  talking  to 
them;  it  might  have  been  half  an  hour,  it  might  have  been 
two  hours.  He  impressed  upon  them  the  importance  of 
giving  to  spiritual  things  the  first  place  in  their  lives,  of 
relinquishing  many  worldly  things  which  crowded  out  the 
soul.  He  said: 

"  A  pint  cup  will  hold  only  a  pint.  If  you  fill  your 
day  with  the  petty  business  of  time,  there  is  no  room  left 
for  the  business  of  Eternity. 

"  When  you  say,  '  I  want '  a  thing,  stop  and  consider 
which  is  the  '  I  '  that  wants  it — the  eternal  or  the  non- 
eternal.  Then  act  accordingly  as  you  desire  the  greater  or 
the  lesser  life." 

At  the  end  of  the  sermon  the  choir  sang  again — their 
first  song,  ending: 

"  For  our  souls  have  found  the  clime 
Where  the  lilies  of  the  Spirit 
Blossom  in  the  winter-time." 

V 

He  dismissed  them  with  the  benediction  he  had  first  used 
in  Nashburgh:  "  May  the  Spirit  which  never  sleeps  awake 
you  to  a  realisation  of  its  invisible  presence." 

The  last  word  was  hardly  spoken  when  an  old  man  in 
one  of  the  front  pews  began  to  scream  wildly,  throwing  his 
arms  in  the  air  and  jumping  up  and  down.  He  was  the 
father  of  one  of  the  leading  men  in  Capronville,  and  for 
many  years  had  been  considered  a  quiet  and  harmless  lun- 
atic, being  permitted  even  to  go  alone  about  the  village. 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          299 

Save  for  his  occasional  muttered  conversations  with  some 
imaginary  companion,  he  was  little  different  from  other 
old  fello\vs  seen  daily  about  the  streets. 

When  he  began  to  scream  in  the  church  his  friends  tried 
to  restrain  him;  but  he  only  cried  the  louder,  pointing  to 
Jesse  and  asking  in  a  terrified  voice  if  he  had  come  to 
kill  him;  declaring  also  that  he  knew  who  Jesse  was,  a  holy 
man,  sent  by  God. 

The  son  of  the  afflicted  one  felt  Jesse's  touch  upon  his 
arm. 

"  Let  me  approach  your  father." 

"  He  has  never  been  like  this  before,"  the  man  declared, 
looking  with  troubled,  apologetic  eyes  into  the  faces  of 
his  neighbours. 

"  Nor  will  he  ever  be  like  this  again,"  said  Jesse.  "  Do 
not  fear." 

He  laid  his  hands  upon  the  violent  man,  who  immedi- 
ately became  quiet;  he  spoke  some  words  to  him  in  a  low 
voice,  unheard  by  the  others,  and  the  tortured  expression  of 
the  rolling  eyes  gave  place  to  a  calm,  clear  look.  Be- 
wildered by  the  sudden  return  of  a  consciousness  long  lost, 
the  old  man  gazed  at  Jesse. 

"  I  seem  to  have  been  in  a  dream,"  he  said,  "  and  you 
awoke  me.  I  remember — I  half  remember — something  you 
said  while  you  stood  up  there  behind  the  pulpit.  Won't 
you  tell  me  the  words  again?" 

Jesse  repeated  the  benediction  he  had  given :  "  May  the 
Spirit  which  never  sleeps  awake  you  to  a  realisation  of_  its 
invisible  presence." 

"  That's  it,"  said  the  old  man.  "  I  think  the  Spirit 
must  have  awakened  in  me." 

His  family  and  friends  were  astonished.  They  had  not 
seen  him  look  like  this,  nor  speak  like  this,  for  more  than 
ten  years.  Indeed,  he  had  never  looked  nor  spoken  quite 
as  he  did  now;  for  something  had  gone  out  from  Jesse's 
soul  and  had  been  accepted  by  his  soul. 

"What  is  this  man?"  the  people  asked  each  other. 
"  What  power  dwells  in  him,  that  the  sick  and  the  insane 
are  healed  by  his  touch  ?  " 

A  little  later  Jesse  was  standing  in  the  vestibule  of  the 
church,  still  surrounded  by  eager  questioners  who  would 


300          THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

not  let  him  go,  when  a  middle-aged  man  approached  on 
whose  face  was  a  look  of  purposeful  intentness  which  sin- 
gled him  out  immediately  for  Jesse's  attention. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked,  bending  his  head  to  look  at 
the  man,  who  was  of  short  stature. 

"  It's  my  old  gardener,  who  is  sick,"  was  the  reply. 
"  He  has  worked  for  me  faithfully  seven  years,  and  now 
he  lies  helpless  on  his  bed,  and  the  doctors  can  do  nothing 
for  him." 

"  I  will  go  home  with  you  and  cure  the  man,"  said 
Jesse,  with  that  simple  certainty  of  his  which  seemed  able 
to  bring  anything  to  pass. 

But  the  gardener's  master  said :  "  I  live  on  the  other 
side  of  the  town,  and  I  do  not  want  to  trouble  you  to  go 
so  far.  But  if  you  will  say  the  word,  I  know  he  will  be 
cured.  I  employ  two  hundred  and  fifty  men  in  my  factory, 
and  when  I  say  that  a  thing  shall  be  done,  it  is  done.  You 
who  have  authority  over  disease,  as  I  have  over  my  men, 
command  the  sickness  to  leave  my  old  gardener,  and  it 
will  leave  him." 

Jesse  gazed  with  wonder  at  the  man,  who  was  the  larg- 
est mill-owner  in  the  town;  and  he  said  to  those  who 
were  with  him:  "  I  have  not  found  before,  not  even 
among  those  nearest  to  me,  a  faith  like  this ! "  Then  he 
turned  again  to  the  man,  who  still  stood  waiting  for  him 
to  command  the  disease  to  leave  his  absent  servant: 

"  Go  home.     //  shall  be  done  as  you  believe." 

As  Jesse  left  the  church  at  that  moment  and  the  people 
could  not  question  him  any  longer,  many  of  them  followed 
the  factory-owner  to  his  home,  eager  to  see  for  themselves 
if  such  an  incredible  thing  could  really  be.  At  the  end 
of  their  walk  (it  was  more  than  a  mile,  and  the  hour  was 
late),  they  found  the  old  gardener  upon  his  feet,  stewing 
a  dish  of  meat  for  himself  on  the  kitchen  stove,  for  the 
women  servants  had  gone  to  bed. 

"  How  does  it  happen  that  you  are  up  and  about?"  his 
employer  asked. 

"  Oh !  I  began  to  feel  better  about  half  an  hour  ago,  and 
I  got  hungry.  But  why  are  all  these  men  here?  " 

They  told  him  what  had  happened  in  the  church. 

"  Praise  God !  "  cried  the  old  man,  who  also  had  faith 


301 

of   his  own.      "  Praise   God    for    revealing    Himself   to    a 
faithless  generation!  " 

Then  the  people  went  to  their  homes;  but  they  had  little 
sleep  that  night  for  thinking  of  what  they  had  seen  and 
heard,  and  every  man  determined  to  go  to  Peter  Bond's 
house  in  the  early  morning,  for  it  was  well  known  that 
Jesse  lived  there.  Who  was  he,  they  questioned,  what 
was  he,  that  he  could  bring  sick  men  to  health,  a  mile  away 
from  him,  by  merely  saying  it  should  be  so? 


CHAPTER    XLVII 

ANDREW  and  Anna  lingered  a  little  behind  the  others 
on  the  way  home.  It  was  a  warm  and  lovely  summer 
night;  there  was  no  moon,  but  the  air  was  like  a  crystal 
globe  through  which  the  innumerable  stars  shed  their  soft 
radiance.  The  breeze  was  sweet  with  the  perfume  of  flow- 
ers, and  there  was  a  low  hum  from  one  of  the  lumber- 
mills  where  the  men  were  working  at  night. 

"  It's  less  than  two  weeks  since  you  and  I  first  met  each 
other,  Anna,"  Andrew  said,  in  a  tone  as  if  he  were  telling 
her  some  incredible  thing. 

"Is  it  really  only  two  weeks?  It  seems  as  if  we  had 
known  him  for  ever." 

"  It  seems  as  if  I  had  known  you  for  ever." 

"  Perhaps  you  have." 

"Anna!" 

"Yes,   Andrew    .     .     ." 

"Do  you  realise  you're  living  now  in  my  home?" 

"  I  had  thought  of  it,  yes." 

"  I  used  to  find  the  old  house  rather  a  lonesome  place, 
for  all  the  faces  and  voices  in  it;  but  I  think  now  I'll  never 
feel  lonely  again,  Anna,  unless  .  .  ." 

She  was  silent — the  soft  singing  of  the  lumber-mill  was 
all  the  sound  he  heard. 

"  I'll  never  be  lonely  again,"  he  went  on,  "  unless  some- 
thing should  separate  me  from  you." 

"  As  long  as  we  both  follow  Jesse,  we're  sure  to  be  to- 
gether, aren't  we?" 

"  Do  you  remember  what  he  said  that  day  on  the  road 
from  the  station  to  his  cousin's  house  in  Nashburgh,  that 
if  you  were  tired  you  could  lean  on  me  ?  " 

"  I  remember." 

"  He  wouldn't  have  said  that,  would  he,  unless  he'd  been 
willing  we  should  think  a  great  deal  of  each  other?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  .  .  .  How  many  stars  there  are 

302 


THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL          303 

to-night,  Andrew !  You'd  think  a  lot  of  new  eyes  had  come 
out  in  the  sky  to  watch  the  wonderful  things  that  are  go- 
ing on  in  Capronville." 

"What  lovely  things  you  say,  Anna!  Do  you  know, 
when  I'm  singing  those  songs  you  made,  I  feel  as  if  my 
soul  was  walking  alongside  of  yours  in  some  strange  high 
place — a  real  place,  but  not  like  anything  I've  ever  seen 
in  the  world.  Of  course  I  can't  sing  like  Mary,  or  even 
like  John;  but  when  I  hear  my  voice  mingled  with  yours 
— why,  I  don't  hear  their  finer  voices  at  all,  but  only  yours 
and  mine! " 

Again  she  was  silent,  and  the  singing  of  the  mill  came 
up  to  them  from  the  river. 

"Won't  you  take  my  arm,  Anna?  The  sidewalk  is 
rather  rough  along  here." 

"  Thank  you,  Andrew." 

"  You  know  the  Master  said  you  might  lean  on  me  when 
you  were  tired." 

"He  is  so  kind  to  all  of  us!  Sometimes  I  feel  that  we 
ought  never  to  think  of  anything,  for  the  rest  of  our  lives, 
but  of  helping  him  to  do  his  great  work." 

Andrew  said  nothing  for  a  little  time,  then  he  drew 
a  deep  breath.  "  People  work  better  when  they're  happy, 
Anna." 

"  Sometimes  they  work  very  well  when  they're  miser- 
able," she  answered.  "  I  remember  the  first  time  I  went 
away  from  home,  to  teach  a  hard  school  in  a  desolate  neigh- 
bourhood, I  was  utterly  wretched;  but  I  worked  as  I 
never  worked  before  nor  since.  I  had  to,  to  keep  from 
thinking." 

"  I  don't  like  the  idea  of  your  working,  Anna." 

"Why,  I  love  to  work!  And  especially  I  love  this  work 
we're  doing  now — though  it  seems  more  like  play." 

"  You  spoke  a  little  while  ago,"  he  said,  "  as  if  we'd 
all  be  together  so  long  as  we  work  for  Jesse;  but  it  isn't 
so.  He's  going  to  send  us  men  away  pretty  soon,  each  in 
a  different  direction,  to  preach  about  him  and  the  Spirit, 
to  carry  the  message  everywhere.  I  don't  know  how  I'm 
ever  going  to  preach.  I  can't  talk  well;  seldom  had  the 
courage  even  to  speak  in  meeting,  right  here  at  home.  I 
told  Jesse  so,  and  what  do  you  think  he  said?",- 


304          THE    SON    OF    MARY   BETHEL 

"  I'd  never  undertake  to  guess  what  he  said." 

"  He  told  me  I'd  have  only  to  open  my  lips,  forget  my- 
self, and  think  of  him." 

Anna  pondered  a  moment.  "  Why,  Andrew,  isn't  that 
the  secret  of  all  eloquence?  If  we  forget  ourselves,  we 
can't  be  bashful;  and  if  we're  really  full  of  an  idea,  pos- 
sessed by  it,  we've  only  to  open  our  lips  and  the  words  will 
come.  That's  how  I  wrote  those  songs  for  him.  If  I'd 
once  thought  of  myself,  or  feared  I  was  going  to  be  ridicu- 
lous, I'd  never  have  dared  to  do  it.  I  just  thought  of 
Jesse  as  the  Master,  and  thought  of  the  Spirit,  and  the 
songs  came." 

"What  a  beautiful  faith  you  have,  Anna!  I  believe  if 
I  could  have  you  along  with  me,  when  I  go  out  to  preach 
for  Jesse,  I  could  do  that  very  thing.  Your  faith  would 
help  me  to  forget  myself,  and  your  mind  would  lift  mine 
up.  Will  you  come  with  me — if  he  is  willing?" 

Her  heart  began  to  beat  so  loud  that  Andrew  could  hear 
it  in  the  stillness  of  the  night.  He  laid  his  hand,  large 
and  warm,  over  her  cold  little  hand  which  rested  on  his 
arm.  She  looked  up  at  him  with  wide,  startled  eyes,  and 
then  looked  down  again. 

"Will  you,  Anna?" 

"I  .  .  .  I  don't  know,"  she  faltered,  in  a  voice  so 
low  and  fluttering  it  hardly  reached  his  ear. 

"  May  I  ask  Jesse  if  he  is  willing  that  we  should  be 
married,  and  then  go  out  together  to  tell  the  world  about 
him?" 

She  caught  her  breath,  and  Andrew  went  on: 

"  I  love  you  so  much,  Anna.  Since  that  first  day  when 
you  came  to  the  house  in  Vergennes,  in  that  little  soft  grey 
dress,  your  eyes  so  large  and  shining  with  the  wonder  of 
the  new  faith  that  had  come  to  you, — why,  since  that  day 
I've  had  to  bite  my  lips  every  hour  to  keep  from  telling 
you  how  dear  you  are  to  me,  how  wonderfully,  sacredly 
dear.  And  you  care  for  me  a  little,  too,  don't  you?" 

"  Yes,  Andrew,  you  know  I  do." 

"And  I  may  ask  Jesse?" 

"Yes." 

"She   raised   her  eyes  again,   confidingly;   and   he  bent 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          305 

and  touched  his  lips  to  hers  in  a  kiss  so  light  it  would  not 
have  crushed  a  rose-leaf,  the  very  spirit  of  a  kiss,  a  seal 
between  their  souls.  A  moment  later  they  came  to  the  door 
of  the  house.  Jesse  had  already  gone  to  his  room  for  the 
night,  and  Andrew  was  obliged  to  wait  until  another  time 
for  an  opportunity  to  ask  his  great  question. 


CHAPTER   XLVIII 

EARLY  in  the  morning,  before  anyone  else  in  the  house 
was  astir,  Jesse  arose  and  went  out  alone  into  the  grey 
dawn  freshness.  He  felt  the  need  to  commune  with  the 
Spirit  in  some  solitary  place,  far  from  the  troubling  at- 
mosphere of  the  daily  life  of  even  those  who  were  dearest 
to  him.  He  could  not  have  borne  the  burden  of  the  flesh, 
his  ethereal  self  could  not  have  held  together  the  atoms 
of  his  body,  had  it  not  been  for  these  occasional  feasts  of 
spiritual  solitude.  He  climbed  the  hill  that  lay  to  the  west 
of  the  village,  the  hill  on  whose  lonely  height  he  had  stood 
that  evening  at  the  end  of  May,  when  the  young  John 
came  up  to  him. 

He  sat  down  on  the  ground  facing  the  east  and  folded 
his  hands,  drawing  into  his  nerves  the  electricity  of  the 
earth,  into  his  blood  the  vitality  of  the  air.  Strong  as  he 
was  and  sustained  by  the  constant  influx  of  spiritual  power, 
something  went  out  of  him  with  all  this  preaching  and 
healing,  something  he  needed  to  renew  occasionally  in  the 
quiet,  face  to  face  with  God.  Since  his  day  of  wrestling 
with  the  Demon  of  Doubt  upon  the  mountain,  no  questions 
ever  troubled  him  as  to  the  wisdom  of  his  course  or  the 
justification  of  his  personal  endeavours. 

"  Power  of  the  universe,"  he  prayed,  "  God  who  is 
throned  in  my  soul,  whose  footstool  is  this  body  I  consecrate 
to  Thee,  possess  and  sustain  this  life  of  mine  which  is  dedi- 
cated to  the  service  of  Thy  world.  Give  me  to  bathe  in 
the  waters  of  that  lake  of  peace  which  lies  in  the  garden  of 
Thy  dwelling-place — the  stillness  at  the  centre  of  life's 
confusion.  Without  Thee  I  should  be  as  a  wind-blown 
leaf  that  is  broken  from  the  parent  tree;  without  Thee  I 
should  be  no  more  I,  for  Thou  art  the  /  in  me. 

"  Give  me  to  feel  Thy  presence  within,  Thine  enfolding 
love  without.  Expand  my  brain,  enlarge  my  heart,  dwell 
in  me  consciously,  till  all  men  shall  be  aware  of  Thine  ex- 
istence by  the  light  that  shines  from  the  windows  of  this 

306 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          307 

Thine  house.  Measureless  One,  who  yet  can  occupy  the 
smallest  heart  and  there  find  room  to  grow!  Master  of 
earth's  masters,  whose  wisest  problems  only  love  and 
charity  can  solve,  the  way  to  whose  highest  peace  is  through 
the  renunciation  of  peace,  enlighten  and  sustain  me. 

"  Thou  to  whom  each  human  heart  is  as  a  water-drop 
to  the  soul  of  the  ocean,  pervade  and  purify  the  hearts  of 
those  who  hate,  as  well  as  those  who  love  me.  For  what 
am  I,  but  a  channel  to  conduct  the  unwilling  as  well  as 
the  willing  stream  to  the  spiritual  sea?  Call  Thou  to  those 
who  rejected  me,  that  though  they  despise  the  channel,  they 
yet  may  yearn  for  the  ocean.  Make  known  Thy  love  to 
that  heart  which  is  most  full  of  bitterness,  that  brain  which 
is  wrought  with  madness.  Descend  upon  him,  and  rise 
within  him,  till  all  sense  of  separateness  shall  be  crushed 
out  between  the  rising  and  descending  love. 

"  When  I  open  my  lips  to  testify  of  Thee,  command  my 
breath,  and  testify  of  Thyself.  When  I  lay  my  hands  upon 
a  fellow  being  to  heal  him,  speak  Thou  the  word  which 
shall  arouse  the  will  to  health;  give  Thou  the  touch  which 
shall  scatter  the  forces  of  disease. 

"  Oh,  guide  these  dear  disciples  of  my  faith !  Fill  them 
to  overflowing  with  the  certainty  of  Thy  favour;  reassure 
them  every  hour  of  the  reality  of  the  Spirit;  hold  them 
by  the  clinging  tendrils  of  Thy  love." 

Jesse  now  became  conscious  of  the  presence  of  others 
behind  him.  Turning,  he  saw  Peter,  John,  Philip  and 
Nathan,  who  had  been  searching  for  him. 

"Do  you  also  come  up  here  to  pray?"  he  asked  them. 
"  It  is  well  to  begin  the  day  by  communing  with  Eternity." 

"  We  come  to  find  you,  Master,"  Peter  answered.  "  All 
the  men  of  Capronville  are  down  at  the  house,  inquiring 
for  you." 

"  It  is  well  that  they  should  come ;  but  now  it  is  also 
well  that  I  should  go,  for  I  have  to  preach  in  other  towns 
besides  this  one.  It  was  for  that  I  came  out  of  the  silent 
place  of  the  spirit;  for  that  I  learned  the  language  of  man- 
kind." 

"  Where  do  we  go  ?  "  asked  Peter,  "  and  when  ?  " 

"We  go  to-day  to  Myra,  where  my  mother  and  my 
brothers  live." 


308          THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

In  silence  they  descended  the  hill,  and  when  still  a  long 
way  off  they  saw  the  crowd  gathered  before  Peter's  house. 
There  were  young  men  and  old  men,  women  and  little 
children,  though  the  hour  was  early;  and  when  the  people 
saw  Jesse,  many  ran  forward  to  greet  him. 

"  They  who  go  out  in  the  early  morning  to  meet  the 
Spirit,  shall  not  return  alone,"  were  his  first  words  to 
them. 

"  Show  us  more  of  your  wonderful  power,"  they  cried. 

"  Shall  I  not  tell  you,  instead,  where  to  seek  the  power 
for  yourselves  ?  "  And  when  he  came  to  the  place  where 
the  mass  of  the  people  stood,  he  told  them  this  story: 

"  There  was  once  a  traveller  who,  as  all  supposed,  had 
visited  many  lands  and  learned  the  secret  of  strange  peoples. 
And  one  day  the  traveller  appeared  in  the  public  square  of 
a  certain  city,  and  exhibited  to  all  men  a  jewel  of  surpass- 
ing size  and  lustre. 

"  Then  each  of  the  men  of  that  city  wished  to  secure  for 
himself  that  jewel,  for  it  was  of  great  value.  Some  planned 
how  they  might  buy  it,  others  how  they  might  steal  it; 
but  a  few  there  were,  a  very  few,  who  thought  to  ask  the 
traveller  where  he  had  found  it. 

"  When  the  excitement  over  the  man  and  his  jewel  was 
at  its  height,  he  climbed  upon  a  wall  in  the  public  square 
and  stood  there  in  the  sight  of  all. 

" '  Oh,  Traveller ! '  the  people  cried,  '  show  us  again 
your  jewel,  for  the  sight  of  it  is  pleasing  to  us.  We 
would  see  it  glitter  in  the  rays  of  the  sun.'  And  they 
pressed  about  the  man,  reaching  toward  the  jewel  with 
their  yearning  hands,  so  many  and  so  close  that  he  could 
hardly  preserve  his  balance  upon  the  wall. 

"  Then,  looking  down  with  pity  at  the  people,  so  many 
and  so  desirous,  the  man  said: 

"'You  call  me  Traveller;  but  all  the  travelling  I  have 
done  has  been  in  the  realm  of  thought,  for  I  was  born  in 
a  humble  quarter  of  this  very  city,  and  have  never  been 
far  from  home.  This  jewel  which  so  delights  you,  I  found 
hidden  deep  in  the  common  ground  on  which  our  city  is 
built.  Go  you  out  a  little  way  and  dig,  each  man  for 
himself;  there  is  a  hidden  diamond  for  every  one  of  you, 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          309 

if  you  dig  deep  enough,  and  never  stop  until  you  have  found 
the  treasure.    I  can  but  point  the  way.'  ' 

The  people  gazed  at  Jesse,  then  gazed  at  one  another; 
for  their  perceptions  were  untrained  in  the  language  of 
symbols,  and  they  understood  his  allegory  but  vaguely. 

"Won't  you  tell  us  the  meaning  of  the  story?  "  one  of 
the  men  found  courage  to  ask. 

"  Is  it  not  clear  to  you  ?  The  Traveller  in  the  realm 
of  thought  is  he  who  shows  to  men  the  jewel  of  spiritual 
knowledge;  the  city  is  human  society;  the  common  ground 
on  which  the  city  is  built  is  the  ground  of  the  soul,  wherein, 
if  one  digs  deep  enough,  one  finds  for  himself  the  hidden 
diamond  of  surpassing  lustre.  But  one  must  go  a  little 
way  outside  the  personal  life,  and  each  must  dig  for  him- 
self, and  never  rest  till  he  has  found  the  jewel." 

"And  how  shall  we  know  when  we  have  found  it?" 
someone  asked. 

"  There  are  many  ways  of  knowing,"  Jesse  answered  ; 
"  but  the  surest  way  is  by  the  love  that  is  the  jewel's 
radiance." 


CHAPTER    XLIX 

JESSE  was  to  arrive  unannounced  at  Myra  with  all  his 
personal  followers,  as  he  had  arrived  at  Nashburgh  with 
a  chosen  few  of  them.  There  was  no  question  as  to  limita- 
tions of  hospitality;  three  houses  at  least  would  be  open  at 
all  times  to  him  and  his,  the  homes  of  his  two  brothers  and 
that  of  Rose  Thomas. 

It  seemed  almost  incredible  that  only  three  short  months 
of  earthly  time  had  passed  since  he  bade  farewell  to  his 
mother,  going  out  alone  to  test  his  strength  among  stran- 
gers. Three  months!  When  he  left  Myra  he  was  only 
an  obscure  young  house-builder,  whose  name  was  known 
to  scarcely  a  score  of  persons  outside  that  little  village  and 
the  smaller  place  of  his  birth.  Now  he  returned  to  Myra 
as  the  accepted  teacher  of  a  large  group  of  personal  dis- 
ciples, the  prophet  and  inspirer  of  hundreds  of  others,  a 
man  whom  the  newspapers  were  already  celebrating,  whose 
fame  was  something  more  than  fame,  whose  words  were 
beginning  to  change  the  consciousness  of  his  time. 

During  the  last  half -hour  of  the  railway  journey  Jesse 
sat  quietly  by  himself,  a  little  way  from  his  friends, 
thinking  of  all  he  had  passed  through  since  he  had  seen 
his  mother:  The  first  journey  to  Capronville,  the  finding 
of  Peter  and  the  others,  the  quest  of  the  Hermit  whose 
testimony  had  done  so  much  to  raise  him  in  the  confidence 
of  men,  the  sojourn  on  the  mountain  of  illumination,  the 
subsequent  preaching  and  healing,  the  multitudes,  the  en- 
thusiasm. Had  one  man  ever  before  changed  so  much,  ef- 
fected so  much,  in  three  months?  But  though  he  fully 
realised  the  scope  of  his  achievement,  in  his  heart  there  was 
no  pride ;  even  to  himself  he  said,  "  The  Spirit  has  done 
these  things,"  not  "  I  have  done  them." 

Andrew  sat  with  Anna,  a  little  way  behind  Jesse. 
Though  his  heart  was  surging  with  the  desire  to  ask  the 
Master's  permission  to  marry,  he  could  not  bring  himself 
to  speak  of  it  now;  for  the  intensity  of  Jesse's  meditation 

310 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          311 

built  an  invisible  wall  about  him  which  none  could  pass. 
On  a  crowded  railway  train  he  could  be  as  much  alone,  if 
he  desired,  as  on  a  mountain  top. 

Leaving  the  station  at  Myra,  they  walked  up  the  village 
street  to  the  house  where  Mary  Bethel  lived  with  her  son 
Henry  and  his  young  wife. 

Jesse's  mother  was  sitting  on  the  shaded  verandah,  sew- 
ing on  a  little  dress  for  her  infant  grandchild.  Since  dawn 
her  thoughts  had  been  busy  with  her  absent  son,  and  his 
last  letter  was  hidden  in  her  bosom.  Maternal  pride  and 
anxiety  struggled  together  in  her  heart.  That  Jesse  should 
succeed  in  any  work  he  chose  to  do,  she  accepted  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course;  but  this  mad  enthusiasm,  these  crowds  of 
followers,  the  superhuman  cures  of  which  he  wrote,  the 
stories  in  the  newspapers,  filled  her  with  vague  fear.  Little 
things,  long  half-forgotten,  came  back  to  her  memory: 
the  great  maturely-intelligent  eyes  of  Jesse  when  he  was  an 
infant;  the  moonlit  night  when  he  discovered  the  fairies 
around  the  rose-bushes,  at  the  age  of  seven;  the  mysterious 
journey  to  the  mountain  when  he  was  a  growing  youth ;  the 
strange  things  he  had  said  all  his  life,  illuminating  things, 
that  sometimes  made  one  think  until  thinking  was  pain,  and 
sometimes  lifted  one  on  wings  of  fire  to  a  place  of  joy  un- 
speakable. 

There  was  a  sound  of  steps  on  the  gravel  walk,  and  she 
looked  up  and  saw  him. 

"  O  my  son,  my  dearest!  " 

She  was  in  his  arms,  crying  with  gladness.  She  saw  the 
men  and  women  behind  him,  but  for  the  moment  could 
not  think  of  them;  the  form  of  her  returning  son  shut 
out  the  universe. 

"Was  the  surprise  too  great,  little  Mother?  I  wanted 
to  see  that  look  of  wonder  on  your  face  when  you  should 
see  me." 

"  Have  you  come  back  to  stay,  Jesse?  " 

"  Only  a  few  days." 

"  And  you  will  go  away  from  home  again  ?  " 

"  Hereafter  I  shall  never  know  the  peace  of  a  home  with 
you,  Mother.  Hereafter  my  only  home  will  be  in  the 
hearts  of  those  who  seek  the  Spirit." 

"  And  these  who  are  with  you     .     .     ." 


312          THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

His  friends  had  lingered  near  the  gate,  with  delicate 
feeling,  leaving  him  to  meet  his  mother  alone.  He  now 
called  them  to  him.  Jim  Bethel  greeted  his  aunt  affec- 
tionately, and  Jesse  made  the  others  known  to  her.  John's 
face  was  flushed  with  emotion  as  he  held  the  hand  of  the 
little  woman. 

"  You  are  wonderful  and  sacred  to  us,"  he  said,  his 
eyes  filling.  "  You,  the  mother  of  our  Master!  " 

"You  call  him  that?"  Her  voice  was  low  and  tremu- 
lous. 

"  Surely  you  realise  how  great  he  is — you,  his  mother!" 

"  I  have  always  known  that  he  was  not  as  others." 

"  If  all  others  were  like  him,  then  God  would  really 
be  clothed  in  the  garment  of  humanity." 

She  knew  not  what  to  answer,  it  was  all  so  bewildering 
to  her;  so  she  asked  them  to  come  into  the  house.  Jesse's 
brother  Henry  was  away  at  work;  but  his  wife  sat  by  the 
window,  with  her  baby  on  her  knee.  She  was  a  heavy  and 
unemotional  young  woman,  and  Mary  Magnus  afterward 
confided  to  Anna  that  the  sister-in-law  seemed  as  much 
out  of  place  in  this  gathering  of  the  God-intoxicated  fol- 
lowers of  Jesse  as  a  cabbage  in  the  midst  of  a  rose-garden. 
She  was  too  stolid  to  be  easily  embarrassed,  but  it  was 
evident  that  her  slow  mind  was  busy  with  a  problem — 
the  possibility  of  her  being  called  upon  to  provide  shelter 
and  food  for  these  friends  of  her  husband's  strange  brother. 
Why,  there  were  more  than  a  dozen  of  them,  and  pro- 
visions were  high  that  year! 

"  Mother,"  said  Jesse,  "  are  you  expecting  Rose  Thomas 
this  afternoon  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  so.  I  saw  her  Sunday  at  church,  and 
she  didn't  say  anything  about — Why,  here  she  is  now, 
hurrying  up  the  path!  " 

Jesse's  old  teacher  came  and  put  both  her  hands  in  his. 
Her  eyes  were  shining  with  joy. 

"  You  have  come  for  me  ?  " 

"Yes,  Rose." 

"  And  I  may  be  one  with  these  ?  "  She  looked  around 
the  group  of  men  and  women  who  were  his  closest  friends. 

"  You  shall,  indeed,  be  one  with  them.  Were  you  not 
the  first  of  them,  the  first  who  promised  to  follow  me  ?  " 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          313 

Then  Rose  told  the  story  of  that  Sunday,  more  than  ten 
years  before,  when  Jesse  had  taken  her  to  the  woods  to 
gather  trailing  arbutus;  how  his  heart  had  been  overcome 
with  pity  when  he  learned  of  her  long-defeated  desire  for 
a  place  in  the  schools  of  Myra;  how  he  had  sprung  to  his 
feet  and  stood  with  his  back  to  her,  facing  the  sunset;  how 
the  golden  light  had  leaped  and  quivered  and  burned 
around  his  body,  as  he  hurled  his  will  and  his  loving  com- 
mand across  the  distance  to  the  minds  of  those  who  stood 
between  her  and  the  object  of  her  hope.  With  eyes  full 
of  tears  and  voice  husky  with  emotion,  Rose  told  her  story, 
and  Mary  the  mother  confirmed  it. 

"  It  was  then  I  knew,"  declared  Rose,  "  that  he  who 
could  pity  and  love  and  will  like  that,  must  some  day  teach 
the  world  the  meaning  of  pity,  and  love,  and  will." 

"  Some  day,"  said  Jesse,  "  some  day  in  the  near  future, 
I  will  preach  for  you  a  sermon,  greater  than  any  I  have 
given  you,  and  its  theme  shall  be  pity  and  love." 

"  Will  you  not  preach  it  here,"  Rose  cried,  "  here  for 
the  people  of  Myra?" 

"  No,  not  here,  but  in  Capronville,  where  the  eyes  of  men 
and  women  are  already  alight  with  the  awakening  Spirit. 
It  shall  be  a  sermon  which  men  will  remember,  the  core 
of  all  my  teaching.  Love  and  pity!  It  is  only  through 
those  two  emotions  that  the  human  becomes  divine.  Will 
is  the  great  commanding  power,  but  will  inspired  by  love 
is  strong  as  the  urge  of  the  universe." 

As  if  drawn  by  some  call  of  which  they  were  uncon- 
scious, Jesse's  two  brothers  came  to  Henry's  house  before 
their  working  day  was  over.  They  came  from  opposite 
sides  of  the  village,  and  met  a*t  the  gate. 

"  Why,  that's  Jesse  sitting  in  the  window !  "  Fred  ex- 
claimed, as  the  two  men  strode  up  the  walk. 

"  Maybe  he's  spent  all  his  money  and  is  going  to  be 
sensible  and  go  to  work  again,"  replied  Henry.  "  I  al- 
ways knew  that  his  preaching  business  wouldn't  pay." 

When  they  saw  the  number  of  Jesse's  companions,  and 
learned  of  his  intention  to  remain  a  few  days  in  Myra  and 
preach  there,  the  two  brothers  were  rather  interested  in 
the  novelty  of  the  idea,  notwithstanding  their  disapproval 
of  what  they  termed  "Jesse's  ambition."  When  Jim 


3H          THE    SON    OF    MARY   BETHEL 

Bethel,  their  cousin,  declared  himself  a  convert  to  Jesse's 
religion,  and  loudly  proclaimed  to  the  astonished  Fred 
and  Henry  that  their  brother  was  a  greater  prophet  than 
any  in  the  whole  Bible,  they  hardly  knew  what  to  say. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you've  made  a  religion  ?  "  asked 
Henry,  staring  at  Jesse.  "  I  didn't  know  that  men  made 
religions  in  our  day." 

"  How  could  you  be  a  prophet?"  Fred  insisted.  "Why, 
you're  only  our  brother,  and  we've  known  you  all  our 
lives!" 

Jesse  looked  from  Fred  to  Henry,  half-sad,  half-amused; 
but  he  made  no  answer. 

Jim   Bethel  answered  for  him: 

"  Those  are  practically  the  same  things  I  myself  said  to 
Jesse  back  in  Nashburgh;  but  when  I  realised  that  he 
could  see  through  bricks  and  boards  as  I  can  look  through 
glass;  when  I  saw  him  cure  diseases  by  a  mere  touch,  dis- 
eases which  had  been  declared  incurable  by  all  the  doctors; 
when  I  heard  him  say  things  that  lifted  me  out  of  myself, 
why,  then  I  came  to  realise  the  truth. 

"  What  truth  ?  "  persisted  Henry. 

John  answered  him:  "The  truth,  that  God  is  the  in- 
dwelling Spirit,  and  that  Jesse  Bethel  has  declared  Him  as 
none  other  ever  did." 

Mary  the  mother  threw  herself  on  Jesse's  breast  and 
wept. 

There  was  to  be  no  preaching  that  first  night  in  Myra. 
It  was  decided  that  Jesse,  John  and  Peter  should  remain 
at  Henry's  house,  the  other  men  were  to  lodge  at  Fred's, 
and  the  women  with  Rose  Thomas;  but  they  would  all 
take  their  meals  together  in  Henry's  house.  Rose  would 
arrange  for  a  meeting  the  following  night  in  the  largest 
church  in  the  village. 

About  nine  o'clock  Jesse  went  to  the  room  he  was  to 
occupy  alone,  knowing  that  his  mother  would  follow.  He 
had  been  more  silent  than  usual  at  the  evening  meal,  for 
the  unbelieving  eyes  of  his  brothers  and  the  stolid  coun- 
tenance of  Ann  Bethel,  his  brother's  wife,  were  not  an  in- 
spiration to  the  ecstatic  speech  habitual  with  him  when  at 
table.  But  the  attitude  of  his  companions,  the  way  they 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          315 

called  him  "  Master  "  and  adored  him  with  their  eyes,  had 
not  been  without  effect  upon  his  family. 

"  I  want  to  speak  with  you,  Jesse,"  his  mother  said,  as 
she  timidly  opened  the  door  of  his  room. 

"  It  was  for  that  I  came  up  here,"  he  answered,  "  that 
we  might  be  alone  together." 

Jesse  blew  out  the  lamp,  and  mother  and  son  sat  down 
by  the  open  window.  Before  their  eyes  was  the  star- 
sprinkled  summer  sky,  in  their  hearts  the  calm  of  true 
communion.  For  a  little  while  there  was  no  word  spoken; 
their  souls  were  becoming  readjusted  to  each  other  after  the 
lapse  of  time  and  tremendous  experience.  Then  Jesse 
touched  the  silence  lovingly  with  his  low  voice. 

"  Do  you  remember  how  we  used  to  sit  hand  in  hand 
like  this  on  the  door-step  of  the  old  house  in  Nashburgh, 
when  I  was  a  little  child,  and  watch  the  stars  come  out 
in  the  eastern  sky  above  old  Thunder  Mountain  ?  " 

"  I  remember,  Jesse." 

"  One  evening,  in  the  summer  after  I  was  nine,  as  we 
sat  there,  you  told  me  the  story  of  Elijah  in  the  days  of 
King  Ahab;  how,  when  the  four  hundred  and  fifty  proph- 
ets of  Baal  had  failed  to  call  down  fire  from  heaven 
upon  their  altar,  Elijah  made  an  altar  of  twelve  stones 
and  laid  his  sacrifice  upon  it,  and  poured  twelve  barrels 
of  water  over  the  sacrifice;  then  called  upon  the  Lord,  and 
the  fire  of  heaven  fell  and  consumed  the  sacrifice,  and  {he 
altar,  and  licked  up  the  water  in  the  trench;  and  how, 
when  the  people  saw  it,  they  fell  on  their  faces,  crying: 
'  The  Lord,  he  is  God ;  the  Lord,  he  is  God.'  ' 

There  was  silence  for  a  little  time,  while  the  two  looked 
out  together  at  the  eternal  stars — the  very  stars  that  shone 
upon  Elijah. 

Then  Jesse  said :  "  Little  Mother,  you  have  seen  the 
fire  from  heaven  that  burns  in  the  faith  of  my  disciples; 
you  know  of  the  cures  I  have  performed,  of  the  multitudes 
that  follow  me.  The  proof  of  the  power  is  the  exercise 
of  the  power,  in  my  day  no  less  than  in  the  day  of  Elijah." 

"  I  know,  Jesse,  that  I  have  given  birth  to  a  great  man, 
a  man  of  a  thousand  years." 

"  If  a  man  is  a  great  prophet,  his  period  is  more  than  a 
thousand  years." 


316          THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

"  But,  Jesse, — I  am  almost  afraid  to  ask  it, — what  will 
be  the  end  of  all  this  ?  " 

"  A  real  faith  has  no  end,  Mother." 

"  But  what  of  him  who  inspires  the  faith  ?  For  years 
I  have  shuddered  whenever  I  have  thought  of  the  future 
in  connection  with  you.  Some  sublime  but  terrible  destiny 
is  brooding  over  my  best  beloved,  my  first-born.  Do  you 
remember  the  day  we  left  New  York  together,  after  my 
visit  there?  I  begged  you  then  that  you  would  never 
again  go  near  that  terrible  city.  And  I  beg  you  now, 
Jesse,  never  to  go  there.  Won't  you  promise  me?  " 

"  Have  you  not  heard  the  saying,  that  a  prophet  cannot 
die  out  of  Jerusalem  ?  " 

She  cried  out  with  horror;  but  he  soothed  her  with  his 
gentle  voice  and  hand. 

"  Do  you  not  remember  what  I  said  to  you  on  the  train 
that  day,  as  we  were  borne  away  from  New  York :  '  The 
price  of  the  song  is  the  singer '  ?  When  a  man  has  done 
his  work,  it  is  time  for  him  to  go;  and  whether  he  lives  a 
hundred  years,  or  thirty,  is  of  no  consequence.  My  mission 
is  to  declare  the  truth  of  the  Spirit,  the  falseness  of  what 
the  world  calls  life.  And  he  who  shall  speak  the  truth  in 
a  way  to  make  men  listen,  will  need  a  bodyguard  of  sol- 
diers to  protect  him  from  the  anger  of  men." 

She  shuddered,  and  drew  nearer  to  him. 

"  A  little  while  longer,"  he  continued,  "  a  few  months, 
maybe  a  year,  I  shall  remain  among  the  simple  men  and 
women  of  this  region;  then  I  must  carry  my  message  to 
the  great  outer  world  which  seems  so  terrible  to  you. 
Here  I  am  happy;  but  should  I  remain  here,  the  blossom 
of  my  life  would  never  round  into  the  fruit.  Meanwhile, 
be  content  with  me,  and  follow  me  wherever  I  go." 

"  I  will  follow  you  as  long  as  we  both  live,  and  may  I 
ba  the  first  to  die,  Jesse !  " 

"  I  feel  it  is  not  so  to  be>  little  Mother." 


CHAPTER   L 

IN  a  little  lavender-scented  room  in  Rose  Thomas's 
house,  Mary  Magnus  and  Anna  Martin  lay  side  by  side 
waiting  for  sleep.  In  this  communal  life  of  theirs  the 
privacy  of  separate  rooms  was  impossible;  and  these  two 
women,  seemingly  so  unlike  in  everything  save  their  devo- 
tion to  one  idea,  had  grown  more  and  more  to  lean  upon 
each  other.  Anna  found  in  Mary  the  power,  the  courage, 
the  great-heartedness  which  her  own  narrow  life  had 
lacked;  and  Mary  found  in  Anna  a  negative,  subduing  in- 
fluence which  held  her  own  wild  nature  in  leash  and  helped 
her  to  adjust  herself  to  the  demands  of  a  new  and  difficult 
position. 

Poor  Mary!  Could  the  emotions,  the  thoughts,  the 
spiritual  experiences,  the  pain  and  rapture  of  that  strange 
being  have  found  expression  in  words,  she  might  have 
made  a  book  which  would  have  lived  as  long  as  Jesse's 
faith,  a  human  document,  written  like  all  human  docu- 
ments in  the  blood  of  the  heart.  Fragments  of  such  a  book 
were  in  existence  for  a  little  while,  a  journal  which  she  car- 
ried in  the  locked  travelling-bag  that  went  with  her  every- 
where; but  it  was  afterwards  destroyed,  burned  by  her  own 
hands,  lest  by  some  accident  it  should  be  discovered,  and  the 
revelations  of  her  tempestuous  heart  be  misinterpreted  in  a 
way  to  raise  false  questions  round  the  name  which  shone 
upon  its  pages. 

As  Mary  and  Anna  lay  side  by  side  that  night  waiting 
for  sleep,  Anna  sighed  heavily. 

"  What  is  it,  little  sister  ?  "  Mary's  hand  smoothed  the 
hair  from  the  girl's  damp  forehead.  "  Don't  you  want  to 
tell  me,  little  sister?  " 

"  You  know  about — Andrew  ?  " 

"  We  all  know,  dear.  You  wear  your  secret  on  your 
faces,  you  and  Andrew.  But  why  do  you  sigh  so  heavily 
to-night?  Often,  lying  beside  you,  I  have  heard  you  sigh 
with  happiness,  and  my  heart  has  quivered  with  sympa- 


3i8          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

thetic  joy  in  your  joy;  but  to-night  there  is  another  spirit  in 
your  signing.  Has  something  happened  between  you,  some 
lovers'  quarrel?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  Mary!  How  could  we  quarrel?  You  didn't 
mean  that,  did  you  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not;  though  I've  heard  of  such  things,  dear 
little  gentle  Anna." 

"  You're  laughing,  Mary.  But,  somehow,  there's  such 
a  sad  tone  in  your  laughter;  it  seems  almost  as  if  there 
were  tears  in  it." 

"  I  was  laughing  to  cheer  you,  little  one,  though  you 
haven't  told  me  yet  why  you  were  sighing." 

"  I  am  sad  because  Andrew  is  so  sad.  The  Master 
won't  give  his  consent  for  us  to  marry.  Andrew  found  a 
way  to  be  alone  with  him  a  little  while  this  evening,  and 
asked  him  if  we  couldn't  marry,  so  I  could  go  with  Andrew 
when  the  Master  sends  the  men  out  separately  to  teach  the 
faith.  And  the  Master  told  him  that  unless  he  could  gladly 
leave  me  and  go  out  alone  to  tell  the  truths  of  the  Spirit 
to  unbelievers,  he  didn't  deserve  to  have  me." 

"So  that  is  why  you  sighed,  little  sister?" 

"  Yes.  And  he  says  that  he  will  be  so  unhappy  all  alone 
away  from  me,  that  he  can't  preach." 

"  That  isn't  so,  Anna.  Andrew  will  work  all  the  bet- 
ter for  the  pain  in  his  heart.  Jesse  understands  these 
things.  Why,  if  Andrew's  heart  were  broken;  if  he  had 
no  longer  the  faintest  hope  of  any  earthly  joy;  if  he  had 
sacrificed  everything  that  makes  life  dear;  if  life  had 
stripped  him  so  bare  and  frozen  him  so  with  pain  that  he 
had  to  cry  aloud  to  the  Spirit  for  fire  to  warm  him  and  a 
veil  to  cover  his  nakedness  from  the  mockery  of  the  world, 
why,  if  he  could  suffer  like  that,  he  would  preach — Anna, 
he  would  preach — yes,  preach  as  well  as  I  sing!  " 

"Mary,  you  frighten  me!" 

For  Mary  had  suddenly  sat  up,  her  body  tense,  her 
voice  ringing  bell-like,  triumphant,  in  the  very  ecstasy  of 
despair,  as  she  made  this  fiery  declaration  of  her  own 
greatness.  Little  Anna  was  dazed.  She  had  sung  with 
Mary  and  written  songs  with  her;  had  seen  how  she  made 
every  being  near  her  happy  by  her  utter  forgetfulness  of 
self;  had  slept  by  her  side  at  night;  but  not  until  this 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          319 

moment  had  she  realised  the  latent,  repressed  power  of 
her. 

"  Anna,"  Mary's  voice  had  softened  now  to  a  tone  be- 
fitting the  lateness  of  the  hour,  "  if  you  really  love  An- 
drew you  should  rejoice  that  the  metal  of  his  soul  is  going 
to  be  tested  in  the  fire.  To  you  and  to  him  the  decision 
of  the  Master  seems  hard,  even  cruel,  maybe;  but  I  am  sure 
that  in  denying  you  and  Andrew  he  suffers  more  for  you 
than  you  can  possibly  suffer  for  yourselves.  Believe  me, 
Anna,  even  we  who  know  Jesse  best  have  but  a  weak  per- 
ception of  the  greatness  of  his  love  for  us.  He  makes  us 
suffer  sometimes,  but  then  he  suffers,  too;  for  he  loves  us 
in  God's  own  way.  We  need  never  be  ashamed  of  letting 
him  see  our  weaknesses  and  faults,  because  his  pity  and 
his  love  are  equal;  and  though  we  should  fall  down  every 
day  on  the  path  of  our  duty  to  him  and  to  the  Spirit,  he 
would  always  be  there  to  pick  us  up  and  to  wipe  the 
mud  from  us,  without  any  superior  fear  of  soiling  his  own 
pure  garment.  Being  with  him,  our  spirits  are  forced  be- 
yond their  normal  growth,  like  plants  in  a  hothouse. 
Maybe  the  plants  suffer  when  they  grow  so  fast;  but  isn't 
it  worth  while  for  them  ?  " 

"  You  give  me  courage,  Mary.  I'm  going  to  try  to  be 
great  and  strong  like  you." 

"  I  great?  I  strong?  Why,  I'm  the  weakest  and  most 
utterly  unworthy  of  all  those  whom  his  great  heart  takes 
pity  on!  " 

"  He  doesn't  say  so." 

"Why,  has  he  ever  spoken  of  me?  " 

"  Yes,  this  afternoon,  when  you  were  out  in  the  kitchen 
helping  his  brother's  wife  to  get  the  supper.  Rose  Thomas 
and  I  and  the  other  women  were  selfish  and  wanted  to  stay 
near  him,  because  he  was  saying  lovely  things;  but  you 
went  out,  without  a  thought  of  yourself,  and  made  cakes 
for  him  and  the  rest  of  us  to  eat.  (Your  old  housekeeper 
told  me  in  Vergennes  that  you  had  never  raised  a  finger  to 
work  in  your  own  house  since  you  were  born.)  After  the 
Master  had  told  us  a  beautiful  story,  John  said  (he's  al- 
ways thinking  of  you):  'What  a  pity  that  Mary  should 
miss  that !  '  The  Master  looked  up,  with  that  gentle  smile 
which  would  make  any  of  us  willing  to  die  for  him,  and  said : 


320          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

'  Mary  never  misses  anything  I  say,  whether  she  hears  it  or 
not ;  for  she  has  come  nearer  than  any  of  you  to  that  self-for- 
getting love  which  is  the  source  of  all  wisdom  and  all  pur- 
ity. She  is  the  greatest  among  you,  and  you  let  her  do 
your  cooking.  .  .  .  No,  do  not  call  her  in  nows  nor 
take  her  place  in  serving;  for  when  I  eat  of  the  food  she 
has  prepared,  I  am  nourished  with  the  very  essence  of  de- 
votion.' " 

This  was  too  much  for  the  taut  heart-strings  of  the 
woman  disciple.  Her  whole  being  suddenly  relaxed,  and 
she  wept  as  pale  little  Anna  had  never  seen  anyone  weep 
before.  Whispering,  "  Oh,  Mary,  Mary ! "  Anna  wept 
too,  her  soul  being  carried  on  in  the  rush  of  the  greater 
woman's  emotion.  Mary,  unconscious  of  her  physical 
strength  in  the  abandon  of  her  tears,  crushed  the  slender 
form  of  the  girl  until  she  cried  out  with  pain. 

"  Oh,  Anna!  Forgive  me,  child!  What  a  brute  I  am 
to  hurt  you!  "  And  Mary  got  out  of  the  bed  and  walked 
about  the  room,  tossing  her  head  from  side  to  side  like  a 
wounded  animal. 

"  Mary,  sister,  please  come  back.  You  didn't  hurt  me, 
really  you  didn't." 

"  Don't  mind  me,  little  one.  I'm  not  often  such  a 
mad  thing.  I've  never  behaved  like  this  before,  have  I  ?  " 
And  Mary  broke  into  sobs  again. 

Anna  came  and  wound  her  loving  arms  about  the  shaken 
body  of  her  friend.  "  Tell  me,  Mary,  what  it  is  that  hurts 
you  so.  I've  never  loved  any  woman  so  much  as  you, 
never  anybody,  except  Andrew;  for  the  feeling  we  all  have 
for  the  Master  is  a  different  kind  of  love,  like  that  we  give 
to  God.  Won't  you  tell  me?" 
"I  can't." 

"  I've  often  wondered,  Mary,  why  you  never  seem 
to  think  of  the  personal  happiness,  of  love  for  yourself,  as 
other  women  do.  And  I've  wondered  sometimes  if  per- 
haps you  hadn't  loved  some  man  very  much  in  the  past,  and 
he  was  dead." 

"You  have  thought  that?" 
"Yes." 

Mary  was  silent,  but  she  stroked  Anna's  hair  as  one 
strokes  the  hair  of  a  little  child.  She  did  not  sob  any 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          321 

more.  "  Let  us  go  back  and  lie  down,"  she  said,  after 
awhile.  "  I  don't  want  to  make  you  ill  with  my  wild  be- 
haviour." 

They  lay  down  again  quietly,  side  by  side,  and  Anna 
went  to  sleep;  but  Mary  remained  wide  awake,  thinking 
and  thinking,  until  the  grey  summer  dawn  came  ghost- 
like through  the  window. 


CHAPTER    LI 

EVEN  the  brothers  of  Jesse  were  convinced  by  the  en- 
thusiasm of  that  first  public  meeting  in  Myra — not  that 
he  was  a  prophet;  but,  as  they  expressed  it,  that  he  was 
going  to  make  a  success  of  preaching.  Wild  rumours  of 
remarkable  cures  performed  in  other  places  by  the  strangely 
beautiful  young  man  who  used  to  build  houses  in  Myra 
had  been  floating  about  the  village  for  some  days;  and  the 
last  twelve  hours  before  the  meeting  were  not  spent  by 
Rose  Thomas  in  sitting  for  instruction  at  the  feet  of  her 
new  master.  She  spent  those  hours  in  going  from  house 
to  house,  from  store  to  store,  from  office  to  office,  carrying 
the  news  that  he  would  preach  that  night,  repeating  the 
stories  of  his  miraculous  healing,  and  exciting  the  imagina- 
tion of  her  fellow  townsmen.  There  were  also  forty  de- 
voted children  ready  to  run  errands  for  her  and  to  carry 
letters  to  those  whom  she  had  not  time  to  visit  in  per- 
son. 

"  The  test  of  devotion  is  service,"  Jesse  had  told  her 
one  time  in  the  past  when  he  had  been  privileged  to  do  a 
kindness  for  her,  and  she  had  never  forgotten  the  words. 
They  were  the  seeds  which  came  to  fruit  in  this  meeting. 
There  would  be  plenty  of  time  in  the  future  for  her  to  en- 
joy his  presence. 

The  church  was  crowded.  After  the  sermon,  which  gave 
the  substance  of  his  spiritual  teaching,  the  power  of  faith, 
the  indwelling  presence  of  God,  the  love  of  human  beings 
for  each  other,  the  gentle  beauty  of  forgiveness,  he  told 
them  this  allegory: 

"  There  was  once  a  wise  king  who  determined  to  seek 
out  the  most  perfect  man  in  the  realm  and  make  him  coun- 
sellor; so  he  sent  emissaries  to  the  north  and  the  south,  the 
east  and  the  west,  with  instructions  to  inquire  diligently 
for  any  man  who  might  be  regarded  by  all  his  neighbours 
as  being  pre-eminent  in  virtue. 

322 


THE    SON    OF    MARY   BETHEL  323 

"  The  first  emissary  returned,  and  said  to  his  royal 
master:  '  It  is  hard  to  find  a  man  of  whom  all  his  neigh- 
bours approve;  but  in  the  town  of  A.  there  is  a  rich  mer- 
chant who  is  noted  for  alms-giving.'  '  And  he  remains 
rich  ?  '  the  king  answered.  '  He  is  not  the  one  I  seek.' 

"  The  second  emissary  returned,  and  said :  '  Most  noble 
King,  I  cannot  find  any  man  who  is  unqualifiedly  approved 
by  everyone;  for  he  who  admits  a  virtue  in  his  neighbour 
with  one  breath,  regrets  or  censures  a  weakness  in  him 
with  the  next  breath.  But  in  the  little  town  of  B.  there 
is  a  man  who  lives  on  insufficient  food  and  sleeps  in  a  fire- 
less  attic,  that  his  only  son  may  enjoy  the  luxuries  of  col- 
lege-life in  the  city.'  '  That  man  is  fostering  the  demon 
of  selfishness  in  the  heart  of  his  son,'  the  king  made  answer; 
'  he  is  not  the  one  I  seek.' 

"The  third  emissary  returned  to  the  king,  and  said: 
'  Eminent  Sire,  there  is  not  a  virtuous  man  in  your  king- 
dom, judging  by  the  testimony  of  neighbours.  But  in  the 
town  of  C.  there  is  a  minister  of  the  established  church  who 
preaches  sermons  so  eloquent  that  poor  people  deprive  them- 
selves of  the  necessaries  of  life,  in  order  to  support  him  in 
a  state  befitting  his  great  eloquence  and  learning.'  '  The 
state  befitting  a  true  prophet  of  God  is  poverty  and  hu- 
mility,' said  the  king;  '  he  is  not  the  one  I  seek.' 

"  The  fourth  emissary  returned,  and  said :  '  Your  Ma- 
jesty, I  have  travelled  over  all  the  western  part  of  your 
kingdom,  and  I  cannot  find  any  man  whose  neighbours  do 
not  censure  him  for  something.  If  a  man  is  rich,  they 
call  him  a  defrauder  of  the  poor;  if  he  is  poor,  they  call 
him  lazy  and  inefficient ;  if  a  man  is  courageous  and  de- 
fends his  rights,  they  call  him  a  browbeater;  if  he  is  gen- 
tle and  forgiving  of  injuries,  they  call  him  a  fool.' 

'  Have    you,    perchance,    found    any    fools    upon    your 
journey?  '  the  king  inquired. 

1 '  I  have  found  that  sort  of  fool,'  the  emissary  answered. 
'  In  the  town  of  D.  there  is  a  learned  doctor  much  cen- 
sured by  his  neighbours  for  what  they  call  his  laxity  in 
moral  judgment.  His  wife  deserted  him  for  another  man, 
and  he  gave  her  a  house  to  live  in  when  she  was  after- 
ward in  need.  His  brother  defrauded  him  of  half  the  in- 
heritance, and  he  refused  to  prosecute  him.  His  daughter 


324          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

lost  her  virtue  and  wandered  far  away,  and  he  sought  her 
without  ceasing  until  he  found  her  and  brought  her  home, 
where  he  sheltered  her  until  she  died.  His  dearest  friend 
betrayed  his  trust,  then  went,  self-murdered,  to  a  dishon- 
oured grave;  and  this  learned  doctor  was  the  only  mourner 
who  followed  the  coffin.  Never  before,  O  King!  have  I 
found  unanimity  of  judgment  regarding  any  man;  but  all 
the  neighbours  of  this  man  declare  that  he  is  a  fool.' 

"  The  king  took  a  great  jewel  from  his  finger  and 
placed  it  in  the  hand  of  the  fourth  emissary,  saying:  *  Go 
find  the  man  and  give  to  him  this  jewel,  then  tell  him  that 
he  has  been  made  counsellor  to  the  king.  He  is  the  one  I 
seek.'  " 

Before  Jesse's  listeners  had  recovered  from  their  sur- 
prise at  this  strange  teaching,  he  told  them  another  alle- 
gory: 

"  There  was  a  man  who  had  five  sons,  and  they  had  each 
received  from  Heaven  a  peculiar  gift.  The  first  had  re- 
ceived the  gift  of  valour;  the  second  had  a  great  mind 
which  joyed  to  wrestle  with  deep  questions;  the  third  pos- 
sessed a  talent  for  amassing  money;  the  fourth  had  a  genius 
for  invention;  and  the  fifth  was  gifted  only  with  a  loving 
heart. 

"  And  the  man  had  great  pride  in  the  first  four  sons, 
and  sent  them  out  into  the  world  to  prove  their  gifts;  but 
the  fifth  remained  at  home,  because  he  would  not  leave  his 
father  all  alone. 

"  The  first  son  became  a  soldier ;  but  so  great  his  valour 
that  it  touched  the  border  of  foolhardiness,  and  he  was  shot 
in  his  first  battle,  neither  returning  to  the  father  nor  prov- 
ing his  gift. 

"The  second  son  studied  in  the  schools  till  he  knew  all 
that  they  could  teach  him,  and  his  mind  wrestled  with  life's 
problems.  But  the  harder  he  thought,  the  deeper  became 
the  mystery  surrounding  all  things,  and  the  more  impos- 
sible seemed  a  final  answer  to  any  question.  The  great 
brain  was  sterile  by  reason  of  its  over-activity,  and  the 
second  son  could  never  prove  his  gift  nor  justify  the  pride 
of  the  father. 

"  The   third    son,    with    the    money-making    gift,    came 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          325 

nearer  to  the  goal  than  his  brothers;  but  so  intense  was 
his  passion  for  gain  that  it  overshot  the  mark,  and  he  was 
ruined  and  disgraced  through  seeking  to  possess  himself  of 
more  than  one  man's  share  of  a  treasure  which  belonged  to 
many.  So  his  gift  proved  a  curse  to  himself  and  to  the 
father. 

"  The  fourth  son,  with  the  genius  for  invention,  be- 
came so  fearless  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge  through  ex- 
periment that  he  was  killed  by  an  explosion  of  his  own 
chemicals,  and  left  the  world  no  wiser  for  his  gift. 

"  The  fifth  son,  he  who  was  gifted  with  a  loving  heart, 
and  in  whom  the  father  had  no  pride,  pursued  the  even 
way  of  life  in  his  native  village.  His  love  of  every  created 
thing  endeared  him  to  all  children,  and  the  love  of  the 
children  endeared  him  to  their  parents,  till  there  was  hardly 
a  man  or  woman  in  the  town  who  would  not  have  declared 
that  he  was  their  closest  friend.  When  he  would  leave  his 
father  alone  for  awhile,  there  were  a  hundred  houses  open 
to  him;  whenever  he  walked  abroad,  he  was  hailed  with  a 
chorus  of  welcoming  voices.  As  the  years  went  by,  he  who 
was  so  well-beloved  was  given  the  highest  position  in  the 
town ;  and  the  fame  of  his  loving-kindness  spread  beyond 
the  borders  of  his  native  village,  and  he  was  given  the 
highest  position  in  the  county,  then  the  highest  position 
in  the  State. 

"  And  the  surprise  and  wonder  of  the  father  grew  with 
every  step  of  his  fifth  son  along  the  larger  path;  for  he  in 
whom  the  father  had  no  pride  had  become  the  pride  of  a 
million  strangers." 

These  were  the  stories  Jesse  told  the  people  of  Myra 
at  the  conclusion  of  his  first  sermon.  Then,  as  they  gath- 
ered round  him  to  be  cured,  he  commanded  a  bent  man  to 
stand  upright,  a  stammering  tongue  to  speak  with  ease, 
a  woman  with  nervous  blindness  to  see  steadily.  He  was 
followed  home  by  half  the  people  of  the  village;  and  the 
next  day  and  the  next  they  constantly  surrounded  him, 
so  that  he  had  no  rest  nor  any  time  for  quiet  converse  with 
his  friends. 

Once  again  he  preached  to  them,  this  time  in  a  public 
hall,  and  many  declared  themselves  believers  in  his  doctrine 


326          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

of  love  and  faith  and  spiritual  power.  But  when  they 
asked  him  for  some  token  of  their  membership  in  the  new 
church,  he  said: 

"  The  seal  of  the  sons  of  the  Spirit  is  written  in  fiery 
characters  upon  the  heart. 

"  You  are  the  God  of  your  own  seeking,  and  you  are 
the  church  wherein  His  worship  must  be  celebrated. 

"  But  do  not  think  that  by  loving  himself  a  man  shall 
find  his  hidden  God.  If  God  did  not  love  the  universe  in- 
stead of  Himself,  both  God  and  the  universe  would  cease 
to  be. 

"  If  you  see  the  universe  in  one  side  of  a  balance  and 
your  God  in  the  other,  behold,  they  shall  weigh  the  same. 

'  This  personality  of  yours,  this  self  of  flesh  and  passion 
which  seems  so  precious  to  you,  is  not  your  real  Self;  it  is 
only  one  of  the  many,  many  tools  used  by  the  real  Self  on 
its  great  masterpiece — the  human  soul. 

"  If  you  ever  really  understand  yourself,  you  will  know 
all  there  is  to  know  about  God. 

"  You  are  the  only  interpreter  who  can  translate  the 
hieroglyphics  of  your  own  experience. 

"  If  you  cannot  find  God  in  the  solitude  of  your  cham- 
ber, it  is  useless  to  look  for  Him  elsewhere.  If  He  does 
not  speak  to  you  in  the  silence  of  the  midnight,  you  will 
never  hear  the  Voice  from  between  the  cherubim  in  the 
Holy  of  Holies. 

"  Your  mortal  lives  shall  fall  to  the  ground  like  leaves 
in  the  autumn;  but  your  life  is  the  life  of  the  Tree  that 
renews  it  leaves  in  the  springtime.  Think  of  yourself  as 
the  Tree  and  not  the  leaves. 

"  Realise  that  every  human  being  is  a  centre  of  divine 
experience;  that  from  the  eyes  of  the  humblest  man  God 
looks  out  and  questions  the  world. 

"  Do  not  regard  with  scorn  the  meanest  human  creature. 
His  house  of  flesh  is  good  enough  for  God  to  dwell  in. 

"  Could  you  read  every  secret  written  in  the  heart 
of  the  simplest  man,  even  yourself,  you  would  be  wiser  than 
Solomon  and  all  the  Magi. 

"You  and  your  brother  are  not  one;  but  the  One  is  in 
both  of  you,  and  each  of  you  is  It." 

When  Jesse  returned  to  Capronville,  his  mother,  his  two 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          327 

brothers  and  Rose  Thomas  went  with  him.  Not  that  Fred 
and  Henry  Bethel  accepted  the  religion  of  their  great 
brother  or  believed  in  his  mission;  but  the  force  of  the 
tide  of  popular  enthusiasm  carried  them  along  with  the 
crowd  of  Jesse's  followers.  Though  they  would  never 
commit  themselves  to  a  declaration  of  belief  in  his  master- 
ship, they  found  a  certain  satisfaction  in  being  called  "  the 
brothers  of  the  Master."  To  each  other  they  expressed 
a  willingness  to  sacrifice  personal  interest  by  leaving  their 
work  for  a  time,  that  they  might  be  near  Jesse  in  case 
he  should  need  them;  they  would  stand  ready  to  advise 
with  him  and  guide  him  by  their  judgment  and  com- 
mon sense,  should  his  excessive  zeal  lead  him  into  any 
trouble.  When  they  listened  to  his  exalted  utterances, 
when  they  witnessed  his  cures  and  felt  the  wild  enthusiasm 
of  the  crowds  surrounding  him,  their  faces  wore  a  look 
of  deep  concern.  They  felt  that  a  great  responsibility 
had  been  thrust  upon  them,  and  they  were  ready  and  will- 
ing to  do  their  duty.  They  did  not  say  these  things  to 
their  mother;  for  there  was  something  in  her  worship- 
lighted  eyes  which  kept  them  silent — out  of  consideration 
for  her,  they  would  have  said,  had  they  been  called  upon 
to  explain  their  reticence. 

Mary  Bethel  herself  was  living  in  a  dream.  She  seemed 
to  have  forgotten  the  danger  that  by  his  own  admission 
threatened  her  beloved  son.  She  saw  him  adored  almost 
as  a  divine  being,  she  heard  his  kindling  words,  she  gazed 
at  his  illumined  face  and  lived  in  the  glory  surrounding 
him.  He  had  been  able  to  lift  her  on  the  wings  of  his 
own  imagination,  to  fire  her  with  the  ecstasy  of  his  faith. 
And  if  sometimes  she  awoke  in  the  night  with  a  gasp  of 
indefinable  dread,  if  her  pillow  was  wet  with  tears  in  the 
lonely  dawn,  at  the  first  look  of  Jesse's  quiet,  compelling 
eyes  the  shadows  vanished. 


CHAPTER  LII 

NEAR  the  village  of  Capronville  was  a  beautiful  lake. 
Jesse  went  out  there  with  his  friends  soon  after  their  re- 
turn from  Myra,  and  many  people  followed  them.  Often 
during  the  summer  and  fall  he  was  to  go  to  that  pine  and 
hemlock  bordered  lake,  to  bathe  his  soul  in  the  silence. 
The  Spirit,  that  seems  hardly  able  to  make  known  its 
presence  in  the  noise  and  confusion  of  civilised  communi- 
ties, in  the  quiet  ether-washed  spaces  can  hold  communion 
with  the  consciousness  of  man. 

On  the  evening  of  their  first  day  at  the  lake,  a  strange 
thing  happened.  Jesse  had  dismissed  the  crowd  of  people 
who  had  followed  him  thither,  and  had  also  sent  his 
friends  back  to  the  village,  keeping  with  him  only  Peter 
and  Andrew,  James  and  John.  The  five  were  sitting  on 
the  margin  of  the  water  as  the  night  shadows  came  down. 
During  the  afternoon  he  had  told  some  of  his  illuminating 
allegories,  and  had  cured  a  child  of  a  violent  epileptic 
seizure  by  one  touch  of  his  hand.  He  seemed  rather  weary 
as  they  sat  by  the  water.  There  was  a  slight  chill  in  the 
air,  and  the  foliage  of  the  trees  behind  them  waved  softly 
in  the  rising  wind. 

"  Peter,"  Jesse  said,  "  there  is  a  large  boat  moored  on 
the  other  side  of  that  point  of  land  to  the  right.  The 
owner  is  coming  down  there  at  this  moment;  and  if  you 
go  and  ask  him,  he  will  lend  it  to  you  for  a  few  hours. 
I  wish  to  go  out  on  the  water." 

From  where  they  sat  neither  boat  nor  man  was  visible. 

"  I  will  go,  Master,"  Peter  answered,  rising  to  his  feet. 
"  But  when  we  passed  that  way  a  little  while  ago  there 
was  no  boat  there." 

"The  boat  is  painted  white,"  Jesse  went  on,  his  eyes 
looking  far  off  into  the  dark  sky.  "  It  is  a  large  flat- 
bottomed  boat,  and  on  the  stern  is  the  name  '  Valiant '  in 
black  letters. 

Peter  was  too  much  astonished  by  the  announcement  to 
make  reply.  His  eyes  were  wide,  his  step  quick  and  de- 

328 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          329 

termined,  as  he  turned  from  them  and  went  out  across  the 
wooded  point  of  land.  The  sound  of  his  footsteps  died 
gradually  away  into  the  silence.  No  one  spoke.  Jesse 
still  sat  gazing  out  across  the  dark  water. 

"There's  someone  coming  round  the  point  in  a  boat," 
John  said  presently,  in  a  voice  which  seemed  to  start  and 
tremble  at  the  shock  of  its  own  sound. 

"  It's  Peter!  "     James  rose  suddenly  to  his  feet. 

"  You  seem  surprised,"  said  Jesse. 

"  It  doesn't  happen  every  day,"  James  answered,  "  that 
a  man  looks  up  into  the  sky  and  tells  me  what  is  taking 
place  out  of  his  sight  and  mine.  I  am  surprised,  Master." 

"  No,  it  does  not  happen  every  day ;  but  it  might  happen 
any  hour.  Must  the  messenger  of  the  Spirit  always 
justify  his  claim  by  the  testimony  of  the  wonder-worker? 
It  may  be  so.  Men  who  accept  the  marvel  of  the  sunrise 
without  comment,  exclaim  at  the  sight  of  a  double-yolked 
egg.  That  I  can  see  what  is  passing  out  of  sight  is  far 
less  marvellous  than  the  fact  that  I  can  see  at  all.  But  if 
you  care  for  the  testimony  of  the  wonder-worker,  listen, 
James:  In  the  inside  pocket  of  your  coat,  over  your 
heart,  is  a  folded  paper,  a  letter  addressed  to  a  friend 
of  yours  in  a  far  place.  You  have  written  to  him  before 
about  me,  and  in  this  letter  you  are  trying  to  give  him 
some  idea  of  my  teaching.  You  have  told  him  of  the 
presence  of  the  indwelling  Spirit,  the  power  of  faith,  the 
beauty  of  gentleness,  and  toward  the  end  are  advising  him 
as  to  the  discipline  for  the  weak  and  erring  human  self. 
You  say: 

"  '  As  to  control,  begin  with  the  tongue ;  for  he  who 
can  control  the  tongue  is  master  of  the  whole  body.  By 
means  of  the  tongue  you  can  effect  more  good  than  with 
a  thousand  loaves  of  bread,  and  you  can  do  more  harm 
with  the  tongue  than  with  a  whip  of  scorpions.  It  is  no 
worse  to  do  evil  to  a  man  than  it  is  to  speak  evil  of  him. 
A  king  by  his  word  may  seal  the  doom  of  a  nation;  by 
his  word  an  humble  man  may  make  himself  an  outcast. 
A  wise  man  guards  his  lips  as  a  nation  guards  its  treasure 
vaults;  a  fool  scatters  words  as  a  drunkard  scatters  coin, 
and  wakes  to  find  himself  impoverished.  Falsehood  and 
truth  may  be  lived,  as  well  as  spoken;  but  no  one  who  lives 


330          THE    SON    OF    MARY   BETHEL 

a  lie  can  long  refrain  from  telling  lies.  Speak  no  harsh 
word  to  any  man;  for  he  whose  words  are  always  gentle 
will  some  day  find  that  he  has  none  but  gentle  feelings 
in  his  heart.  These  things  our  Master  has  taught  me.' 
Thus  the  letter  ends." 

In  bewildered  silence  James  took  from  his  pocket  a 
folded  paper  and  handed  it  to  Jesse.  There  was  not  light 
enough  to  read  by  at  that  hour. 

"And  those  words  are  written  in  the  letter,  James?" 
The  voice  of  John  shook  as  he  questioned  his  brother. 

"  Word  for  word,  as  I  wrote  the  last  page  of  the  letter, 
he  has  repeated  it;  and  no  eye  but  mine  has  seen  the  writ- 
ing." 

Jesse  laid  his  arm  lovingly  around  the  shoulder  of  John's 
elder  brother,  saying: 

"  A  few  days  only  have  you  been  with  me ;  but  already 
you  are  giving  to  others  the  blessings  you  have  received. 
You  have  learned  instinctively  the  great  lesson  I  am  always 
striving  to  teach:  That  no  man  can  really  possess  any- 
thing until  he  has  given  it  away;  that  a  truth  sharedjs  a 
truth  verified." 

'  Never  again  will  I  be  surprised  at  anything  the  Mas- 
ter does,"  James  promised,  "  though  he  turn  back  the  tides 
of  the  ocean." 

Jesse  gave  him  a  strange  look  across  the  gathering  shad- 
ows. "  We  shall  see,"  he  said. 

They  heard  a  grating  sound  upon  the  pebbles  of  the 
shore.  It  was  Peter  with  the  boat.  Jesse  stepped  in,  and 
the  others  followed,  Andrew  taking  his  place  with  Peter 
at  the  oars. 

"  Row  out  into  the  middle  of  the  lake,"  said  Jesse,  "  and 
rest  there  between  the  water  and  the  sky  until  I  tell  you 
to  return.  I  am  tired,  and  would  sleep  on  the  bosom  of 
the  waves."  He  laid  himself  down  in  the  prow  of  the 
boat,  and  was  fast  asleep  before  they  were  ten  rods  from 
shore. 

"  This  must  be  the  middle  of  the  lake,"  said  Andrew, 
after  a  time,  "  though  it's  now  so  dark  that  no  man  could 
tell." 

"  There's  a  storm  coming,"  Peter  muttered.  "  I  won- 
der how  long  he  will  sleep." 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          331 

"A  strange  thing  happened  while  you  were  away,"  John 
said  to  him. 

"Was  it  any  stranger  than  the  errand  he  sent  me  on? 
The  boat  was  there,  just  as  he  said,  and  the  name  '  Valiant ' 
is  painted  in  black  letters  across  the  stern." 

"  It  was  equally  strange,"  John  answered,  and  told  him 
the  story.  They  were  not  rowing  any  longer,  and  there 
was  no  sound  save  the  dual  whisper  of  the  wind  and 
the  waves.  John's  voice  rose  clear  and  full  as  he  repeated 
from  memory  the  more  striking  sentences  from  the  letter 
so  miraculously  revealed  to  them. 

"  That  is  even  more  extraordinary  than  his  seeing  the 
boat,"  Peter  assented.  "  I  wonder  how  long  he  will 
sleep." 

There  was  a  brief  silence,  broken  by  a  little  start  and 
a  stifled  cry  from  John. 

"What's  the  matter?" 

"  Only  a  wave  that  wet  my  hand." 
'  The  wind  is  rising,"  James  observed. 

"  He  said  we  were  to  stay  here  until  he  told  us  to  re- 
turn." Peter's  voice  was  higher-pitched  than  usual. 

At  that  moment  there  was  a  rumble  of  thunder  in  the 
distance. 

"  I  wonder  how  long  he  will  sleep."  It  was  John  who 
said  it  this  time. 

The  call  of  the  thunder  was  answered  across  the  black 
sky;  the  wind  shrieked  suddenly,  and  Peter's  hat  was  blown 
from  his  head  and  whirled  away  into  the  night. 

"Do  sit  still!"  John  pleaded.  "You're  rocking  the 
boat." 

"  I  didn't  move,"  declared  Peter,  "  though  the  wind 
blew  my  hat  away." 

"  It's  the  waves  that  are  rocking  the  boat,"  said  James. 
He  seemed  more  at  ease  than  the  others,  and  his  voice  was 
steadier. 

Andrew,  the  silent  one,  now  spoke:  "  Do  you  really 
think  he  will  sleep  much  longer?" 

"  God   knows."     Peter   answered. 

"  Yes,  God  knows.  We  hadn't  thought  of  that."  It 
was  James  again. 

A  rush  of  wind  slapped  their  faces  with  foam;  a  wave 


332          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

went  over  the  edge  of  the  boat,  partly  filling  it  with  water 
and  wetting  them  to  the  skin. 

"  Hadn't  we  better  go  ashore  ?  "  John  cried. 

"  The  shore  ?  Where  is  the  shore  ?  The  wind  has 
tossed  us  about  till  we  don't  know  north  from  south." 

"  How  peacefully  he  sleeps!"  said  James,  "like  a  little 
child  in  its  mother's  arms." 

"  Suppose  we  should  all  drown !  "  Peter's  voice  was 
full  of  fear.  "  Would  we  ever  be  forgiven  for  letting 
him  drown  ?  " 

"  He  told  us  to  rest  here  between  the  water  and  the 
sky,"  James  reminded  him. 

Peter  leaned  forward.     "  Let  us  wake  him." 

"What  for?"  James  asked.  "Do  you  think  he  will 
row  you  ashore  ?  " 

"  He  can  tell  us  where  the  shore  is.  He  found  the 
boat,  and  read  the  name  '  Valiant.' " 

Another  wave  went  over  the  edge.  The  thunder 
rattled  and  roared  in  the  hills. 

'  If  it  would  only  lighten  so  we  could  see  the  shore!  " 

'  Are  you  afraid,  John  ?  "  his  brother  asked. 

'  Yes,  terribly  afraid." 

'  The  name  of  the  boat  is  '  Valiant,'  little  brother." 

'  He  loves  me.  He  will  forgive  me  for  waking  him." 
And  John  leaned  over  and  softly  touched  the  face  of 
the  sleeping  man. 

"  Master,  Jesse,  wake!  Please  wake!  The  wind  is 
terrible;  we  shall  drown.  It  is  I,  John,  and  we  are  all 
afraid!" 

Then  occurred  the  strangest  thing  they  had  ever  seen 
or  ever  would  see,  a  thing  the  recital  of  which  was  to  be 
listened  to  with  wonder  or  denied  with  scoffing  by  genera- 
tion after  generation;  a  thing  occurred  that  would  ever 
seem  incredible  to  those  who  had  not  seen  it,  and  that  made 
the  men  who  saw  it  almost  doubt  the  testimony  of  their 
senses. 

Jesse  stood  up  in  the  boat,  and  the  first  flash  of  lightning 
which  rent  the  darkness  at  that  moment  lit  his  face  with 
unearthly  radiance.  So  calm  he  seemed,  and  strong,  as 
if  an  angel  had  appeared  to  comfort  and  save  him.  In 
another  second  the  flash  of  light  was  gone,  and  his  voice 
came  to  them  in  the  darkness. 


THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL          333 

"  Why  are  you  afraid,  my  children  ?  Where  is  the 
faith  that  makes  the  soul  of  the  true  disciple  valiant  as  a 
lion  among  dangers?  Does  the  Spirit  sleep  when  the 
messenger  of  the  Spirit  takes  his  rest?" 

There  was  silence,  for  no  one  dared  to  answer  him — 
a  silence  in  which  even  the  wind  seemed  to  listen  for  what 
was  coming  next.  Then  over  the  troubled  waters  Jesse's 
voice  rose  in  a  long,  vibrant,  bugle-clear  command,  such 
a  call  as  the  Creator  of  the  universe  might  have  sounded 
over  the  waters  of  chaos  when  the  hour  was  come  to 
harmonise  them, — one  ringing,  potent  tone,  which  rever- 
berated in  endless  waves  of  sound  through  the  startled  air 
and  was  lost  among  the  surrounding  hills. 

Slowly  the  wind  died  away,  the  boat  ceased  rocking, 
and  over  the  waters  of  the  lake  there  gradually  settled  a 
great  calm.  Then  without  a  word,  as  if  what  he  had 
done  were  a  simple  action  of  every  day,  Jesse  returned  to 
his  former  place  in  the  prow,  and  soon  was  sleeping  peace- 
fully as  before. 

The  men  breathed  deep;  they  coughed  and  cleared  their 
throats  from  sheer  nervousness.  The  night  was  still  so 
dark  they  could  not  see  one  another's  faces.  It  seemed 
impossible  that  he  could  really  be  asleep  again  so  soon. 
John  whispered  softly: 

"  Master." 

There  was  no  answer. 

"  Don't  wake  him  again,"  James  said,  "  though  there 
are  several  inches  of  water  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat." 

In  moving  his  foot,  Andrew  hit  something  which  gave 
forth  a  flat,  metallic  sound;  it  was  an  old  tin  pail,  and 
writh  it  he  began  to  bail  the  water  they  had  shipped  in  the 
storm.  This  commonplace  labour  relieved  the  tension  of 
their  feelings,  and  gave  them  time  to  pull  themselves  to- 
gether. John's  teeth  were  chattering,  but  not  with  cold; 
and  Peter  was  rubbing  his  hands  together,  as  one  might 
who  went  gloveless  in  midwinter.  Finally  he  spoke: 

"  Now  what  sort  of  man  is  this,  who  can  order  a  hur- 
ricane to  lie  down,  as  a  man  might  order  a  dog !  " 

"  Did  you  see  his  face  at  the  moment  of  the  lightning 
flash?" 

"  I  shall  see  it  till  I  die." 

Not  another  word  was  uttered   during  the  hour  that 


334          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

Jesse  slept.  When  he  awoke,  the  sky  was  lighter,  the 
thunder-storm  had  passed  round  them,  and  a  few  stars 
were  out  between  the  clouds.  They  rowed  back  to  the 
place  where  they  had  taken  the  boat,  then  walked  from  the 
lake  to  Capronville,  arriving  at  Peter's  house  a  little  before 
midnight.  There  were* few  words  spoken  on  the  way 
home;  but  before  they  separated  for  the  night,  Jesse  said 
to  them: 

"  Which  is  the  greater  marvel,  think  you,  that  a  man 
should  quiet  the  waters  of  a  small  lake,  or  that  he  should 
rouse  the  mighty  waves  of  aspiration  on  the  sea  of  human 
consciousness?  " 

The  next  morning  Jesse  was  invited  to  meet  the  clergy 
of  the  town  in  consultation,  at  the  house  of  the  most 
influential  of  them.  He  sent  back  word  that  they  should 
come  to  him,  and  after  some  delay  they  came,  six  men 
in  smooth  black  broadcloth.  He  received  them  surrounded 
by  his  friends.  Many  poor  people  of  the  village  were 
also  there,  and  Peter's  youngest  child  sat  upon  Jesse's 
knee  during  the  whole  interview.  The  mother  would  have 
reproved  the  child  and  carried  it  away,  but  Jesse  restrained 
her. 

"  Children  are  nearest  to  the  Spirit,"  he  said ;  "  they 
remember  much  that  the  wisest  of  men  and  women  have 
forgotten.  He  whose  heart  is  open  to  the  Spirit  as  a 
little  child's,  shall  dwell  in  the  Spirit  wherever  he  may 
be." 

"  By  the  Spirit  I  suppose  you  mean  the  Almighty,"  said 
the  oldest  of  the  ministers,  a  tall,  spare,  beardless  man, 
with  a  narrow  mouth. 

"  The  Spirit  is  almighty,"  replied  Jesse. 

"They  tell  me  that  you  call  yourself  the  mouthpiece 
of  the  Spirit,"  said  the  youngest  of  them,  a  florid,  amiable 
man,  who  seemed  to  regard  the  whole  matter  as  rather 
amusing  than  otherwise.  He  was  an  up-to-date  minister, 
with  a  liberal  following,  and  was  noted  for  his  skill  in 
oratory  and  out-door  sports. 

"  It  is  a  great  responsibility,"  Jesse  answered,  "  a  grave 
responsibility,  to  speak  for  God  to  the  hearts  of  men." 

"  Yes,  yes,  to  be  sure." 


THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL          335 

"  I  am  told  that  you  cure  hypochondriacs  by  suggestion," 
said  another  of  the  men,  one  who  had  formerly  failed  as 
a  physician  but  had  succeeded  in  the  church.  "  You  must 
have  a  very  powerful  will." 

"  The  spiritual  will  is  all-powerful,"  was  Jesse's  an- 
swer. 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  the  fourth  minister,  "  but  by  whom 
were  you  ordained  ?  " 

"  By  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  I  am  the  servant  of  Its  will." 

"  And  how  is  that  will  made  known  to  you  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  Power  of  which  I  am  the  expression." 

"  The  possibilities  of  self-deception "  began  another ; 

but  Jesse  interrupted  him: 

"  He  who  has  really  sacrificed  his  life  to  the  life  of  the 
Spirit,  has  no  longer  a  personal  self  which  can  be  deceived." 

The  sixth  man  was  a  mild  and  gentle  being,  with  eyes 
as  clear  as  those  of  the  child  in  Jesse's  arms.  His  was  a 
poor  church,  and  his  broadcloth  was  shiny  at  the  seams. 

"  I  see  no  harm  in  you,"  he  said  simply,  shaking  his 
whitening  head. 

"  Nor  I  in  you,"  replied  Jesse.  "  He  who  carries  the 
water  of  the  Spirit  to  the  poor  and  humble  shall  drink 
himself  from  the  immortal  fountain." 

The  child  in  Jesse's  arms  had  not  moved  before,  but  it 
now  put  out  a  little  rosy  hand  and  touched  the  hand  of 
the  shabby  preacher,  whose  eyes'  slowly  filled  with  tears. 

After  a  few  more  questions  the  ministers  all  rose  to- 
gether and  went  away;  and  the  last  sound  they  heard 
as  they  passed  through  the  outer  door  was  Jesse's  voice 
in  loving  converse  with  the  little  child. 


CHAPTER  LIII 

IT  was  in  a  large  field,  lying  outside  the  village  of 
Capronville,  that  Jesse  gave  his  promised  sermon  on  love 
and  pity,  transcendent  themes,  which  none  may  fully  un- 
derstand who  has  not  burned  the  dross  of  separateness 
from  out  his  heart.  The  crowds  that  gathered  round  him 
were  larger  every  day;  they  came  from  all  the  near-by 
towns,  and  even  from  greater  distances,  their  souls  answer- 
ing the  call  of  his  soul.  It  was  a  cool  and  pleasant  Sun- 
day morning,  and  he  spoke  in  the  open  field  because  there 
was  no  church  in  the  town  large  enough  to  hold  a  tenth- 
part  of  the  multitude  that  pressed  to  hear  him. 

"  He  who  would  read  the  Book  of  Immortal  Life,"  he 
began,  "  must  learn  its  alphabet,  and  the  first  letter  is 
Love. 

"  I  have  said  that  man  may  become  one  with  God ;  but 
until  you  love  all  other  men  as  yourself,  you  shall  not 
become  that  God  who  dwells  in  the  centre  of  all  things. 

"  I  not  only  say,  love  your  enemies ;  I  say,  understand 
your  enemies.  He  who  shall  truly  understand  another 
shall  love  him  as  himself. 

"  Think  of  all  unawakened  men  and  women  as  being 
little  children,  whom  you  can  love  and  teach. 

"  It  is  by  pitying  and  understanding  the  weaknesses  of 
others,  that  we  transcend  them. 

"  Does  a  criticism  of  yourself  arouse  your  resentment  ? 
Resentment  is  a  confession  of  weakness.  An  impregnable 
tower  needs  no  defence. 

"  Our  enemies  are  often  of  more  service  to  us  than  our 
friends;  for  they  point  out  the  faults  which  we  may 
remedy. 

"  Do  not  complain  because  others  misunderstand  you, 
but  look  back  over  your  life.  Would  you  dare  that  they 
should  fully  understand  you?  Yes?  Think  again. 

336 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          337 

"  If,  when  a  man  speaks  evil  of  you,  you  look  deep  into 
your  own  heart,  you  may  find  that  you  have  been  tempted 
to  do  that  very  evil;  so  forgive  the  speaker. 

"  But  never  say  of  others  what  you  would  not  wish  them 
to  say  of  you.  He  who  can  follow  this  injunction  is  on 
the  road  to  mastery  of  self. 

"  If  your  love  of  God  does  not  include  all  his  creatures, 
God  will  never  be  aware  of  your  love. 

"  Until  you  think  of  the  welfare  of  all  beings  as  an 
ambitious  man  thinks  of  his  own  welfare,  know  that  you 
have  not  made  certain  your  own  welfare. 

"  When  you  can  think  of  your  own  misfortune  and  the 
misfortune  of  your  enemy  as  being  of  equal  importance, 
then  shall  you  be  beyond  the  reach  of  misfortune. 

"  It  is  not  by  thought,  or  even  by  sacrifice,  that  a  man 
shall  find  his  way  to  the  spiritual  place;  it  is  by  love  that 
he  shall  find  his  way. 

"Let  us  pray  for  that  understanding  sympathy  which 
shall  make  even  the  unfortunate  acts  of  our  fellow  beings 
seem  to  be  our  acts,  to  be  given  the  same  pardon  we  extend 
to  our  own  failures  in  living  the  perfect  life. 

"  Would  you  know  how  to  be  sure  whether  an  action 
is  right  or  wrong?  There  is  a  test:  Is  it  inspired  by 
unselfish  love? 

"  The  greatest  exaltation  carries  with  it  one  supreme 
privilege — that  of  serving  others. 

"  And  do  not  be  looking  always  for  reward.  Do  good 
because  it  should  be  done,  leaving  results  to  the  Law.  It 
is  just,  and  infinitely  wiser  than  you  are.  But  those  who 
do  good  merely  for  the  sake  of  reward  complain  that  the 
Law  is  ungrateful. 

"  Not  until  the  individual  is  adjusted  to  others  is  he 
really  adjusted  to  himself. 

"Why  are  you  so  afraid  of  self-surrender?  You  can 
never  really  possess  your  own  soul  until  you  give  it  away. 

"  Only  when  a  man  regards  all  beings  as  himself,  has 
he  a  right  sometimes  to  disregard  them. 

"  When  the  struggle  of  life  confuses  you,  when  the  noise 
of  life  distracts  you,  seek  out  a  quiet  spot  and  find  your 
quiet  soul;  then  return  to  the  noise  and  try  to  harmon- 
ise it. 


338          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"  The  discord  you  hear  is  but  the  vibration  of  a  few 
tones  in  the  great  harmony  you  do  not  hear. 

"  Go  teach  the  truth  to  others.  Is  it  for  yourself  alone 
that  you  sow  the  seed  of  discipleship  ?  The  bird  of  truth 
will  pine  and  die  if  imprisoned  in  the  cage  of  self.  Only 
by  releasing  it  can  you  possess  it,  or  enjoy  its  ravishing 
music. 

"  Do  not  be  discouraged  when  you  realise  the  vileness 
of  the  world.  If  the  world  were  on  a  higher  plane,  the 
ideal  of  the  disciple  would  be  higher  still  and  more  difficult 
of  attainment. 

"  Should  I  tell  you  now  the  highest  interest  possible  to 
the  human  soul,  it  would  seem  to  you  to  be  devoid  of 
human  interest. 

"  When  you  intensely  desire  something  for  yourself,  and 
the  whole  world  seems  blank  to  you  because  you  cannot 
have  it,  try  to  realise  that  you  are  only  one  of  the  millions 
of  yearning  human  beings  the  earth  bears  upon  her  bosom; 
that  you  are  only  one  grain  of  sand  on  the  shore-line  of 
eternity. 

"  Observe  how  mortals  hover  round  the  flame  of  ephem- 
eral passion  as  moths  around  a  night-lamp;  then  turn  and 
watch  the  quiet,  immortal  stars. 

"  It  is  not  written  that  you  should  despise  pleasure ; 
only  insist  that  in  the  cup  you  drink  there  shall  be  at 
least  one  drop  of  the  elixir  of  pure  love. 

"  Do  you  grieve  because  the  love  of  a  friend  has  grown 
cold?  The  only  love  that  can  sustain  you  is  the  love  that 
never  grows  cold,  and  you  must  find  it  in  your  own  heart. 

"  When  you  no  longer  demand  anything  for  yourself, 
and  yet  give  everything,  the  hearts  of  your  fellow  beings 
will  overflow  with  love  for  you. 

"  It  is  only  in  the  soil  of  a  bleeding  heart  that  the_seed 
of  immortal  love  can  find  nourishment  to  grow. 

"He  who  has  an  utterly  hopeless  love  has  the  highest 
gift  of  Heaven — the  possibility  of  an  utterly  unselfish  love. 

"  He  only  can  really  trust  who  has  been  betrayed  and 
who  expects  betrayal. 

"  Not  until  you  understand  why  others  act  as  they  do, 
will  you  be  wise  and  loving  enough  to  show  them  a  better 
way. 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          339 

"  Gentleness  of  speech  is  greater  than  eloquence,  and 
love  is  greater  than  worldly  knowledge. 

"  He  who  shall  treat  all  beings  with  loving-kindness,  will 
some  day  be  thrilled  with  the  consciousness  of  his  unity 
with  all  beings. 

".Neglect  no  duty;  but  remember  always  that  duty  is 
only  the  imitation  of  love. 

"  He  who  shall  wilfully  injure  another  has  placed  a 
mountain  in  the  path  of  his  own  soul;  he  who  shall  care- 
lessly injure  another  has  digged  a  pitfall  for  his  own  feet. 

"  And  in  seeking  to  help  your  brother,  do  not  force  him 
to  lead  your  life.  It  was  evidently  the  intention  of  God 
that  he  should  lead  his  own. 

"  Because  toys  no  longer  give  you  pleasure,  do  not  for- 
get that  a  child's  day  may  be  darkened  by  the  breaking  of 
its  doll. 

"  Only  a  wise  man  may  venture  to  wound  another  for 
his  good,  or  to  choose  the  way  another's  feet  shall  travel; 
and  a  wise  man  will  be  slow  in  doing  either. 

"  A  man's  contempt  for  the  weaknesses  of  his  neigh- 
bour is  the  measure  of  his  own  lack  of  spiritual  strength. 

"  Often  when  you  think  you  doubt  another's  character, 
what  you  really  doubt  is  his  admiration  for  you. 

"  Question  your  own  motives  always ;  but  only  he  whose 
love  for  all  beings  is  like  that  of  a  mother  for  her  children 
should  dare  to  study  too  closely  into  the  personal  motives 
of  others. 

"  Love  is  the  only  defensive  weapon  the  soul  needs. 

"  If  you  wish  to  disarm  the  man  who  would  injure  you, 
throw  away  your  shield  and  remove  the  breastplate  from 
your  heart. 

"  A  man  may  defend  himself  so  vigorously  that  the 
whole  world  will  unite  in  attacking  him. 

"  Silence  is  the  most  effective  refutation  of  slander ; 
kindness  is  stronger  than  cruelty;  love  is  the  antidote  of 
hate,  and  peace  is  the  inevitable  end  of  war. 

"  But  do  not  fancy  that  you  shall  attain  the  great  peace 
by  merely  removing  yourself  from  the  distractions  of 
human  life;  you  will  find  no  quiet  in  the  solitude  of  the 
primeval  woods  unless  you  carry  it  with  you.  Some  there 
are  who  shall  open  the  door  of  peace  by  thought,  others 


340          THE    SON    OF    MARY   BETHEL 

by  sacrifice;  but  he  who  shall  pass  the  threshold  and  dwell 
inside  for  ever  shall  open  the  door  by  love. 

"  Do  not  grieve  for  the  loss  or  absence  of  anything. 
Does  the  earth  mourn  that  you  help  yourself  to  her  fruits 
and  rifle  her  hidden  mines?  She  is  inexhaustible,  and  so 
is  That  which  you  are. 

"  Even  though  your  brother  has  betrayed  you,  do  not 
lose  faith  in  him.  How  often  have  you  denied  or  forgotten 
God!  A  serpent  may  suffer  from  hunger  as  keenly  as  a 
dove,  and  even  a  treacherous  man  is  a  human  being  who 
may  need  help  far  more  than  the  righteous  man. 

"  They  need  your  pity  most  who  suffer  from  their  own 
fault,  for  they  have  not  the  consciousness  of  virtue  to  sus- 
tain them. 

"  Refuse  no  man  who  asks  from  you  the  hand  of  broth- 
erhood. The  erring  soul  whom  you  should  turn  away 
would  stand  between  you  and  the  light  you  seek. 

"  Even  your  own  virtue  will  not  save  you  unless  it  lights 
the  way  for  others;  and  God  will  never  open  a  place  for 
you  in  the  heaven  of  his  consciousness,  until  you  would 
gladly  relinquish  heaven  for  the  sake  of  those  who  suffer 
on  the  earth." 

So  Jesse  ended  his  sermon  on  love  and  pity.  Those  who 
listened  were  astonished  at  his  teaching,  and  one  asked 
another:  "  How  can  a  man  so  far  forget  himself  as  to 
love  others  like  that?  It  is  not  human  nature!  " 

"  When  a  man  loves  others  like  that,"  answered  Mary 
Magnus,  who  overheard  the  question,  "  when  a  man  loves 
the  whole  world  like  that,  he  is  something  more  than 
human." 


CHAPTER  LIV 

IT  was  after  this  sermon  that  Peter  came  to  Jesse  in 
great  perplexity.  "  Master,"  he  said,  his  honest  face  red 
with  embarrassment,  "  how  is  it  that  you,  who  make  so 
much  of  goodness,  can  say  that  bad  people  are  as  good 
as  good  people?  " 

"  I  have  never  said  that,  Peter." 

"  Yet  you  said  that  those  who  suffered  from  their  own 
fault  deserved — or  needed,  rather — our  pity  more  than 
others." 

"  Quite  a  different  statement,"  replied  Jesse. 

"  It  seems  to  me  about  the  same." 

"  To  say  that  darkness  is  in  need  of  light,  is  that  to  say 
that  black  is  white,  or  that  night  is  day?  You  who  are 
nearest  to  me  should  not  set  the  world  an  example  of  mis- 
undersjanding."  Jesse's  manner  was  gentle,  but  Peter 
realised  that  he  had  failed  in  discernment.  It  was  not 
the  first  time  that  one  of  Jesse's  own  had  perverted  his 
teaching,  nor  would  it  be  the  last. 

"  Was  there  anything  else  in  my  talk  to-day  which 
puzzled  you,  Peter  ?  " 

"Yes,  Master.  You  said,  or  it  seemed  to  me  you  said, 
that  not  one  of  us  would  dare  to  let  other  people  really 
understand  him.  Now  I've  been  an  honest  man  all  my 
life." 

Jesse  laid  his  arm  around  the  shoulders  of  his  friend 
and  looked  down  into  his  eyes. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  he  said  gently,  "  the  little  serving- 
maid  who  left  your  house  soon  after  I  came  here?  " 

Peter  answered  in  a  low,  firm  voice:  "  I  was  never 
once  in  a  room  alone  with  her." 

"  That  is  true;  but  can  you  say  that  you  never  wished 
to  be,  during  the  weeks  she  lived  here?" 

"  I  am  humbled,  Master,  and  reproved.  I  will  never 
again  question  the  truth  of  your  teaching.  Is  there  noth- 
ing hidden  from  your  eyes?  " 

341 


342          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"  There  is  nothing  which  needs  to  be  hidden  from  my 
eyes,"  was  Jesse's  answer.  "  Do  men  raise  an  umbrella 
when  the  moon  shines?  The  gaze  of  the  understanding 
love  is  gentler  than  the  gaze  of  the  new  moon." 

Many  of  Jesse's  doings  were  as  grievously  misunder- 
stood as  were  his  words.  Among  the  new  followers  who 
joined  him  soon  after  his  return  to  Capronville  was  the 
keeper  of  the  village  livery-stable,  a  man  who  had  lived  a 
wild  and  self-indulgent  life;  but  who,  from  the  hour  when 
he  first  listened  to  Jesse,  renounced  his  reckless  ways,  and 
tried  to  lead  as  many  as  possible  of  his  former  boon  com- 
panions to  follow  the  pure  life  of  the  new  teacher.  Jesse 
dined  one  day  at  this  man's  house,  to  the  amazement  of 
the  rich  people  of  the  village,  who  were  fascinated  by  the 
personality  and  teachings  of  the  young  master,  and  would 
have  joined  his  flock  had  he  given  up  the  common  habit 
of  preaching  in  the  streets  and  open  fields  and  associating 
with  outcasts. 

The  women  would  have  liked  to  ask  him  to  their  parties, 
he  was  so  handsome  and  so  courteous  in  manner;  but, 
somehow,  they  were  never  quite  sure  how  he  would  re- 
ceive the  invitation  to  leave  the  dusty  open  road  for  the 
flowery  but  walled-in  garden.  It  would  have  been  quite 
impossible  to  extend  the  invitation  to  his  friends  and  dis- 
ciples, and  he  might  have  objected  to  leaving  them  behind. 
So  reasoned  the  rich  women  of  the  town;  but  they  went 
in  groups  to  hear  him  preach,  they  talked  about  him  much 
of  the  time  and  thought  about  him  all  the  time. 

It  was  at  this  period  that  he  made  one  of  his  most  re- 
markable cures,  snatching  back  the  soul  of  a  little  girl  of 
twelve  years  from  the  very  clutches  of  death.  Though  he 
charged  the  father  and  mother  of  the  child  to  tell  no 
one,  the  story  spread  with  a  growing  multiplicity  of  de- 
tails from  house  to  house  and  from  village  to  village,  till 
the  name  of  Jesse  Bethel  was  on  the  lips  of  every  man 
and  woman  and  child  in  that  part  of  the  State.  His 
preaching  alone  would  have  surrounded  him  with  crowds 
of  eager  listeners;  but  the  cures  he  performed  thrilled 
the  imagination  of  the  people  to  a  fever  of  enthusiasm. 
There  were  circulated  about  him  even  wild  and  improb- 


THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL          343 

able  stories,  and  a  legend  of  his  miraculous  birth  was  ger- 
minating already  in  those  early  days  in  Capronville. 

At  first  he  went  about  from  village  to  village  preach- 
ing, with  all  his  disciples  and  intimates  together;  but  as 
the  summer  advanced,  and  the  popular  interest  in  him 
grew  more  and  more  intense,  he  told  the  men  in  whom 
he  had  most  confidence  that  the  time  was  come  for  them 
to  go  out  ahead  of  him,  themselves  preaching  the  doctrine 
of  the  indwelling  Spirit,  curing  the  sick  by  the  power  of 
faith  as  he  had  done  before  them,  and  telling  all  who 
would  listen  of  the  great  things  they  had  seen  and  heard. 
The  grief  of  the  men  at  the  thought  of  leaving  him  was 
as  deep  as  their  desire  to  serve  him.  They  had  returned 
to  Capronville  for  a  few  days  after  a  happy  journey  to- 
gether round  the  neighbouring  towns,  and  they  were  at 
Peter's  house  when  Jesse  told  the  men  that  they  must 
go  out,  two  by  two,  in  different  directions.  John, 
always  emotional  as  a  woman,  wept  when  the  announce- 
ment came;  though  all  of  them  had  been  prepared 
for  it. 

"  How  can  I  leave  you,  Master !  "  he  cried,  struggling 
with  the  sorrow  that  choked  his  voice. 

"  He  only  is  my  true  friend  and  my  disciple  who  is 
willing  to  leave  me,  and  to  carry  my  message  to  those  who 
need  it.  Is  it  for  this  little  group  alone  that  I  harrow 
the  spiritual  field?  Out  of  the  richness  of  your  harvest 
must  come  the  seed  of  future  harvests  which  other  men 
shall  reap.  He  is  nearest  to  me  who  is  willing  to  go 
farthest  from  me,  that  my  mission  may  be  fulfilled.  The 
foreign  ambassador  is  nearer  to  the  king  than  is  the  page 
who  carries  the  royal  mantle." 

"  It  is  sad,"  said  Andrew,  "  that  those  who  love  each 
other  should  be  separated." 

"  Such  separation  is  of  the  body,  not  of  the  soul,"  Jesse 
answered.  "  Our  separate  lives  exist  that  we  may  come 
through  them  to  realise  there  is  no  separateness." 

"  You  are  the  source  of  all  our  strength,"  said  Philip. 
"  Without  you  we  are  nothing." 

"  He  who  desires  to  give,  and  still  to  give,  will  find  at 
his  disposal  all  the  riches  of  the  Infinite." 


344          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"  I  am  a  plain  man,"  said  Peter,  "  and  I  have  no  skill 
in  words." 

"Are  you  afraid  to  testify  of  the  faith  that  is  in  you? 
Do  you  fear  to  stammer?  to  appear  foolish  in  the  eyes 
of  others?  Then  is  your  vanity  stronger  than  your  faith. 
Because  your  voice  is  harsh  and  your  language  unpolished, 
will  you  refuse  to  point  the  way  to  the  fountain  where 
you  have  been  refreshed?  Does  the  buttercup  refuse  to 
blossom  because  it  is  not  a  rose?  The  word  you  fear 
to  utter  may  be  the  rope  which  would  keep  some  strug- 
gling soul  from  drowning  in  the  sea  of  doubt." 

Andrew  was  even  more  troubled  than  Peter  at  the 
thought  of  standing  up  and  preaching  before  men.  His 
natural  shyness  rose  like  a  high  wall  between  him  and 
the  duty  he  was  about  to  face.  His  heart  beat  fast  and 
his  hands  trembled  at  the  very  thought  of  the  ordeal  be- 
fore him. 

"  I  am  sure,"  he  said,  looking  at  Jesse  with  his  great 
dog-like  eyes,  "  I  am  sure  that  I  shall  speak  worse  than 
any  of  the  others." 

"  What  of  that,"  Jesse  answered,  smiling,  "  if  you  do 
the  best  you  can?  The  desire  to  surpass  your  brother 
in  the  race  of  eloquence  is  the  treacherous  briar  whose 
touch  would  make  you  lame." 

"And  how  shall  I  know  what  to  do,  not  having  you 
to  tell  me?" 

"  Before  the  pupil  can  really  begin  to  learn,  he  has  to 
become  his  own  schoolmaster,  nor  must  he  shrink  from 
the  discipline  he  gives  himself." 

"  And  what  if  people  will  not  listen  to  me  ?  " 

"  If  men  refuse  to  listen,  still  go  on  speaking.  To  him 
who  speaks  the  truth,  even  the  rocks  and  the  trees  must 
finally  listen." 

"  We  know,  Master,  that  there  is  much  evil  in  the 
hearts  of  men,"  James  said.  "  Before  we  go,  will  you  not 
tell  us  what  we  have  most  to  avoid  in  our  dealings  with 
other  men  ?  " 

"  Look  deep  into  your  own  heart,  and  whatever  evil 
you  find  there — that  evil  avoid  in  others." 

They  thought  he  was  mocking  them,  and  their  faces 
grew  sadder  than  before;  but  he  went  on: 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          345 

"  Why  do  you  shrink  from  the  knowledge  that  you  are 
like  your  fellow  men?  Are  you  not  human,  even  as  they 
are?  It  is  through  overcoming  evil  in  yourselves  that 
you  learn  to  pity  it  in  others.  A  vice  is  sometimes  of 
more  value  to  the  soul  than  a  virtue,  through  the  power 
and  pity  which  may  be  gained  by  conquering  it." 

"  Master,  will  you  not  give  us  some  charm  to  protect 
us  in  danger?  "  It  was  the  imaginative  John  who  spoke. 

"  Yes,"  Jesse  answered,  "  when  any  danger  threatens 
you,  repeat  this  all-potent  formula:  '  God  is  the  Powerz  and 
I  am  the  expression  of  the  Power.'  ' 

"  And  when  people  criticise  our  doctrine  and  refuse  to 
listen  to  us?  " 

"  Be  not  discouraged  by  criticism  of  your  teaching.  He 
who  shall  try  to  refute  every  objection  of  his  critics  is  like 
a  man  who  should  leap  hither  and  thither  on  the  highway, 
trying  to  dodge  the  shadows  that  fall  across  his  path." 

Though  it  was  then  about  ten  o'clock  at  night,  he  took 
them  with  him  to  the  top  of  the  adjacent  hill  where  he 
was  wont  to  commune  with  the  Invisible  in  solitude,  and 
standing  before  them,  with  uplifted  face,  he  called  down 
upon  their  coming  labours  the  inspiration  of  that  Power 
whose  instrument  he  felt  himself  to  be. 

"  O  Thou  whose  habitation  is  in  every  heart,"  he  prayed, 
"  Thou  who  slumberest  in  the  souls  of  men,  awake  in  these 
my  children !  Descend  upon  them,  arise  within  them, 
ravish  them  with  Thy  glory.  Touch  their  lips  with  the 
fire  of  Thy  word,  their  hands  with  the  healing  of  Thy 
love,  their  faith  with  the  answer  of  Thy  presence.  Make 
them  to  burn  like  candles  upon  the  altar  of  mankind.  Be 
Thou  the  urge  in  their  souls,  the  zeal  in  their  devotion ; 
drive  them  like  leaves  before  the  wind  on  Thy  business 
of  inspiring  the  souls  of  men." 

Listening  in  the  darkness,  their  souls  caught  fire  from 
his,  and  their  lips  moved,  following  his  prayer.  He  had 
endued  them  with  his  own  spirit. 

Telling  them  to  be  ready  to  start  in  the  morning,  he 
sent  them  back  to  the  house.  But  he  remained  upon  the 
hill,  praying  hour  after  hour,  throwing  himself  like  a 
fearless  swimmer  upon  the  waves  of  the  spiritual  ocean, 
wrestling  with  them,  conquering  them,  making  his  way 


346          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

to  the  goal  by  the  power  of  his  indomitable  will.  At 
dawn  he  went  back  to  where  his  disciples  waited,  knowing 
that  all  the  night  he  had  been  commanding  their  alert 
and  responsive  spirits,  while  their  bodies  lay  locked  in 
slumber.  As  they  greeted  him,  he  saw  that  every  face 
was  alight  with  the  fire  of  his  long  vigil. 

Then,  two  by  two,  he  sent  them  out  in  all  directions; 
and  in  choosing  those  who  were  to  go  together,  he  gave 
each  man  as  a  travelling  companion  that  one  whom  he 
least  loved  and  understood,  that  through  the  intimacies  of 
their  journey  and  the  unity  of  their  purpose  they  might 
draw  nearer  to  each  other. 

These  were  his  last  words  to  them: 

"  Remember  that  my  spirit  dwells  in  each  of  you,  and 
that  each  of  you  is  myself.  Whatever  I  have  done  through 
this  body  which  you  see  before  you,  that  can  I  also  do 
through  yours.  When  you  lay  your  hands  upon  a  man 
to  heal  him,  my  faith  shall  work  the  miracle  of  cure.  When 
you  open  your  lips  to  declare  my  doctrine,  I  am  the  word 
which  proceeds  out  of  your  mouth. 

"  Fear  nothing,  and  surrender  yourselves  to  the  Spirit. 
For  before  you  can  conquer  the  world,  the  Spirit  must 
have  conquered '  you. 

"  When  you  shall  have  learned  obedience  to  the  King 
that  is  throned  in  the  centre  of  your  own  being,  then 
shall  the  kings  of  the  world  come  to  you  for  instruction. 

"  Preach  the  doctrine  of  the  Spirit ;  not  that  yourselves 
may  be  rewarded,  but  that  all  men  may  know  the  doc- 
trine of  the  Spirit. 

"  Deliver  your  message  in  words  which  your  listeners 
can  understand.  He  who  shall  use  the  German  language 
in  speaking  to  Italians  will  seem  to  them  a  foreigner  and 
an  alien. 

"  Do  not  give  to  any  pupil  a  lesson  beyond  his  power 
to  grasp.  He  who  wishes  to  play  with  children  must 
choose  games  which  they  can  understand. 

"  Follow  the  guidance  of  the  Spirit  in  all  things;  and 
when  in  doubt  as  to  any  direction,  listen  for  my  assenting 
voice — and  it  may  be  that  you  shall  hear  it. 

"When  men  question  you  with   sincerity,   declare  unto 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          347 

them  the  truths  of  the  Spirit;  when  men  question  you  with 
insincerity,  declare  unto  them  also  the  truths  of  the  Spirit. 

"  If  any  shall  scorn  you  as  homeless  wanderers,  invite 
them  to  enter  with  you  the  spiritual  home. 

"  To  those  who  greet  you  harshly,  reply  with  gentle- 
ness; to  those  who  shall  greet  you  gently,  deliver  the  mes- 
sage of  my  love. 

"  Remember  that  when  the  pupil  is  ready,  the  teacher 
is  ready;  so  fear  not  to  answer  any  who  shall  ask  of  you 
for  knowledge  of  the  Spirit  and  of  me. 

"  From  all  public  storms  and  hatreds,  seek  shelter  in 
secret  devotion." 


CHAPTER  LV 

FROM   THE   JOURNAL  OF   MARY   MAGNUS 

HE  has  sent  the  men  away  to  preach  and  to  make  con- 
verts, but  me  he  has  not  sent  away.  Yet  of  all  his  fol- 
lowers it  would  seem  that  I  am  the  one  best  fitted  for 
that  labour.  Why  am  I  spared  the  pain  of  leaving  him? 
But  no,  it  is  not  that.  He  would  not  spare  me  pain. 
It  is  because  he  thinks  it  best  for  the  work  that  I  should 
not  go  out  with  the  others.  Does  he  fear  that  the  inten- 
sity of  my  words  in  testimony  of  his  teaching  might  be 
interpreted  as  personal  devotion  to  the  teacher?  Yet  they 
are  all  devoted.  How  wise  you  are,  Jesse,  for  all  your 
purity!  To  be  pure  is  to  be  unmixed,  an  old  teacher  of 
mine  once  told  me.  Is  the  soul  pure  when  it  is  unmixed 
with  the  desires  of  the  earth?  The  soul  of  my  Master 
seems  to  touch  the  earth  only  to  raise  and  chasten  it — 
never  to  mix  with  it.  Yet  he  told  our  friends  in  Myra 
that  I  was  greater  than  any  of  them.  They  may  have 
misunderstood  him.  Which  is  better,  I  wonder,  greatness 
or  purity?  He  is  both  great  and  pure. 

Sometimes  it  seems  that  I  am  walking  in  a  dream.  Does 
this  strange  life  that  I  am  living  appear  unreal  by  reason 
of  its  very  reality?  It  may  be  so.  It  is  incredible  that  I 
should  dwell  so  near  to  him  and  not  break  my  heart — 
either  with  happiness  or  pain.  And  I  am  his  disciple! 
I  love  and  serve  the  cause  he  loves — the  revelation  of  the 
spiritual  consciousness  to  a  matter-blinded  world.  I  do 
this,  I  who  am  often  more  blinded  by  matter  than  any  of 
those  who  deny  the  Spirit.  Oh!  where  does  the  body  leave 
off  and  the  soul  begin?  And  is  not  the  heart  between  the 
two — crucified  between  the  two? 

"  Mary,"  he  said  to  me  one  day,  "  the  sun  that  makes 
the  fecund  earth  to  blossom  and  bear  fruit  is  the  same 
sun  that  smites  to  death  the  traveller  in  the  desert."  Then 
he  passed  out  into  the  garden,  leaving  me  alone  to  wonder 
at  his  words. 

348 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          349 

Surely  the  soil  of  my  heart  has  blossomed  and  borne  fruit, 
for  am  I  not  serving  the  messenger  of  the  Spirit?  I  daily 
buy  food  for  my  fellow  disciples,  and  often  I  cook  it  for 
them.  I  am  the  comforter  and  friend  of  all  who  doubt 
their  worthiness  to  be  among  us.  Who  should  understand 
them  as  well  as  I  ?  "  Sister  Mary  Magnus  is  so  good 
herself,"  he  told  a  poor  creature  yesterday,  "  that  she  helps 
everyone  else  to  be  good."  How  utterly  he  trusts  me — 
my  beautiful  Master! 

Yet  I  am  not  always  good.  One  day  in  passing  his 
seat,  when  there  was  no  one  in  the  room  but  ourselves, 
I  bent  and  touched  his  hair  with  my  hair,  lightly  as  a  rose 
may  touch  another  rose  in  the  breeze.  And  when,  passing 
on,  I  turned  and  looked  back  at  him,  smiling — his  eyes 
were  full  of  tears! 

Overpowered  by  the  grandeur  of  his  gentleness,  I  knelt 
and  pressed  my  forehead  to  his  feet.  By  some  miraculous 
transformation  in  me,  he  was  no  more  the  man,  but  the 
Master,  in  an  instant.  Peter  came  into  the  room  at  that 
moment  and  asked  what  was  the  matter  with  me,  and 
Jesse  said :  "  Our  sister  knows  that  humility  is  the  path 
that  leads  to  the  stars." 

Peter  told  the  others,  and  all  that  evening  John  and 
Anna  Martin  sat  on  the  floor  at  Jesse's  feet — in  imitation 
of  my  humility! 

How  strange  it  is  that  I  never  grow  restless  or  discon- 
tented among  these  people,  so  different  from  myself.  Here 
in  the  home  of  Peter  and  his  family  I  am  at  home.  The 
children  seem  to  love  me  almost  as  well  as  they  do  their 
mother.  "  Beautiful  Mary,"  they  call  me ;  and  when  I 
tell  them  stories  about  the  strange  little  people  of  Japan 
and  India  and  China,  their  eyes  remind  me  of  Jesse's  eyes, 
twenty  years  ago,  when  he  told  us  other  children  stories 
from  the  Book  of  Wonder,  back  in  the  old  schoolhouse 
at  Nashburgh.  Twenty  years  ago!  And  since  then  I  have 
measured  the  world,  and  he  has  measured  the  universe. 

Does  he  ever  think  of  that  evening  in  the  garden  at 
Vergennes,  I  wonder  .  .  or  of  the  letter  I  sent 

him  from  Los  Angeles  .  .  or  of  the  time  I  saw 

him  in  the  theatre  in  New  York  and  ran  away  because  I 
was  afraid?  He  has  never  spoken  of  any  of  these  things, 


350          THE    SON   OF  MARY  BETHEL 

and  his  thoughts  no  one  can  guess.  Loving  and  gentle 
and  expansive  as  he  always  is,  I  feel  that  none  of  us  can 
yet  follow  him  to  that  lonely,  stupendous  height  where  his 
spirit  holds  communion  with  the  unveiled  Splendour. 
Sometimes  when  we  are  all  sitting  together  around  him, 
and  he  has  been  teaching  us  how  to  lighten  our  heavy 
lives  with  the  spiritual  leaven,  suddenly  his  face  is  all 
aflame  with  a  white  glory;  his  eyes  are  raised  in  rapt 
contemplation  of  some  ecstatic  vision  which  we  cannot 
see,  and  his  whole  being  seems  to  quiver  and  melt  with 
beauty.  At  such  times  we  gaze  at  him  in  wonder,  and 
dare  not  speak. 

O  beatific  one,  if  I  could  only  be  uplifted  for  one  mo- 
ment on  the  fiery  wings  that  carry  you  away,  how  gladly 
would  I  leave  the  earth  behind  for  ever  and  all  the  hopes 
of  earth!  The  vision  that  beckons  to  my  Master  is  the 
one  Reality,  of  which  all  earthly  beauty  is  but  a  shadow. 
I  know  it,  I  realise  it;  and  yet  I  only  catch  rare  flashes 
of  the  effulgence  that  lights  his  every  hour. 

"  Love  me,  and  follow  in  my  footsteps,"  he  tells  our  fellow 
disciples,  Peter  and  the  others.  And  they  answer  him: 
"  We  do  love  you,  Master,  and  will  follow  you  to  the 
end  of  the  world." 

But  when  he  and  John  and  I  are  alone  together,  as  we 
are  sometimes,  he  never  tells  us  to  love  him;  but  he  says: 
"  Adore  the  Spirit.  It  is  the  Father,  the  Mother,  the 
Lover,  the  Friend.  Reach  to  It  with  your  souls.  It  is 
ravished  with  the  idea  of  giving  Itself  to  one  who  can 
receive  it.  It  is  the  one  inextinguishable  Flame,  and  It 
yearns  for  all  humanity  to  light  their  candles  from  It.  Its 
power  is  never  exhausted;  It  burns  eternally,  and  Its  sub- 
stance is  never  consumed;  It  is  the  kindler  of  the  su^  the 
glamour  of  the  moon,  and  the  stars  are  the  tapers  of 
Its  chamber.  There  is  no  satisfaction  like  the  love  of  It, 
no  glory  like  Its  favour.  Seek  It  unceasingly,  and  you 
shall  find.  Some  day  the  windows  of  the  soul  will  open 
of  themselves,  and  the  great  Light  will  shine  in  on 
you." 

And  John  and  I  sit  spellbound,  for  the  Light  he  bids 
us  seek  for  Its  own  sake  is  reflected  upon  our  souls  from 
the  countenance  of  our  teacher,  until  it  seems  to  us  that 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          351 

he  is  himself  the  Light,  the  Father,  the  Mother,  the  Lover, 
the  Friend,  and  that  the  stars  are  the  tapers  of  his  chamber. 

But  sometimes  late  at  night  before  I  go  to  sleep,  lying 
very  still,  I  feel  a  Presence,  vast  as  the  starry  sky  yet 
nearer  and  more  intimate  than  all  the  tender  intimacies 
of  earth.  And  I  know  that  I  have  touched  for  a  moment  the 
fringe  of  the  Spirit's  veil  of  glory.  Is  this  a  hint,  a 
promise  of  the  Vision  that  came  to  Jesse  on  the  mountain 
of  illumination?  And  shall  it  come  to  me?  I  feel  that 
he  lives  every  moment  in  the  presence  of  this  mystery  that 
merely  brushes  me  in  passing.  Is  that  why  you  are  so 
beautiful,  my  Master?  Is  that  why  the  sound  of  your 
voice  rouses  a  legion  of  slumbering  memories  that  tap 
and  whisper  at  the  doors  of  consciousness?  Why  the  touch 
of  your  hand  is  like  the  lifting  of  a  veil  before  the  eyes  of 
the  soul? 

One  day  at  twilight  when  I  was  alone  in  the  garden 
behind  Peter's  house,  leaning  on  the  stone  wall  and  looking 
down  at  the  river,  Jesse  came  out  and  stood  beside  me.  I 
raised  my  eyes  to  his  for  a  moment,  then  we  remained 
there  together  in  silence,  looking  at  the  grey  water.  There 
is  a  mystic  unity  between  two  human  souls  when  they 
gaze  at  the  same  beautiful  thing,  even  though  their  minds 
are  filled  with  unrelated  thoughts.  I  scarcely  thought  of 
anything  during  those  exquisite  moments;  the  action  of 
the  mind  was  stilled  by  the  happiness  of  the  soul.  And 
then  I  heard  his  voice,  that  seemed  to  bring  me  back  from 
a  long  distance. 

"  Mary,  when  I  am  no  longer  with  you,  when  I  am 
dead,  will  the  memory  of  these  perfect  days  be  enough 
to  fill  your  heart?" 

The  world  swam  round  me,  and  I  closed  my  eyes  to 
keep  from  falling.  "When  you  are  dead,  Jesse?" 

"  It  is  written  that  I  am  to  die." 

"  And  shall   I   survive  that,   too  ?  " 

"  By  many,  many  years,  Mary.  Will  the  memory  of 
these  months  be  enough  to  fill  your  life?  " 

The  idea  that  he  might  die  had  never  before  come  to 
me.  That  the  happiness  of  being  with  him  might  end — 
that  was  always  my  fear;  but  that  this  living,  radiant 
entity  that  was  Jesse  could  be  cut  off — as  well  expect  the 


352          THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

sun  to  cease  shining.  I  was  so  overwhelmed  by  his  ques- 
tion that  I  forgot  to  answer  it. 

"  I  shall  be  with  you  all  in  Spirit,  even  when  my  body 
shall  be  no  more."  He  felt  the  shiver  that  ran  through 
me  at  the  suggestion  of  the  grave  for  the  beautiful  being 
that  lived  and  breathed  before  me. 

"  The  body  which  perishes  is  not  the  real  I,"  he  went 
on ;  "  it  is  only  a  garment  worn  by  the  imperishable  Spirit. 
You  will  realise  this  when  my  body  is  only  a  memory. 
For  I  shall  be  with  you  at  all  times,  though  you  do  not 
see  me;  I  shall  be  a  living  invisible  presence,  for  ever 
looking  over  the  shoulders  of  those  who  have  loved  me. 
Will  the  consciousness  of  me  be  enough  to  fill  your 
life?" 

Thrice  he  had  asked  the  question,  each  time  in  a  differ- 
ent form  of  words;  but  the  substance  of  it  was  this:  If 
he  were  to  die,  and  his  breathing  presence  were  removed 
from  me,  would  the  consciousness  of  his  immaterial  pres- 
ence be  enough  to  fill  my  burning  woman's  heart  through 
all  the  years  of  my  life?  Did  I  love  him  well  enough  to 
be  only  the  disciple  of  a  dead  yet  living  master,  from 
youth  even  to  old  age?  This  was  what  he  meant,  and 
I  answered : 

"  Is  there -any thing  or  anybody  in  the  world  that  would 
be  large  enough  to  hold  my  heart — after  you  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  think  so,  Mary,"  he  said.  "  That  is  why  I 
have  chosen  you  as  the  confidant  of  this  knowledge  that 
has  come  to  me;  none  of  the  others  may  know  it  yet.  Try 
to  become  accustomed  to  the  idea  of  me  as  an  indwelling 
presence.  Hitherto  I  have  told  you  to  meditate  upon  the 
Spirit;  now  think  of  me  as  a  medium  of  communication 
between  the  world  and  It." 

"  I  do  not  know  the  two  apart,"  I  answered. 

"When  I  am  no  longer  with  you  in  this  body,"  he 
continued,  "  my  work  will  still  go  on,  through  you  and 
the  others.  Give  your  life  to  it,  Mary,  as  I  have  given 
mine.  Though  I  do  not  want  you  to  work  for  reward, 
yet  the  reward  is  great.  Give  yourself  so  completely  to 
the  cause  of  the  spiritual  awakening  of  the  world,  that 
from  my  home  in  the  centre  of  the  Spirit  I  may  be  aware 
of  you  as  an  extension  of  myself,  a  part  of  myself  still 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          353 

upon   the  earth.     Then  shall   the  bliss  of  the   Spirit   flow 
through  you  as  it  flows  through  me." 

He  turned  away  and  went  up  the  path  to  the  house. 
When  he  was  gone  the  night  seemed  cold,  and  the  garden 
lonely  as  the  regions  of  dark  space  between  the  stars.  I 
could  not  follow  him  into  the  cheerful  room  where  the 
others,  who  had  been  waiting  for  him,  raised  their  happy 
voices  to  welcome  his  return.  I  stole  quietly  past  the 
open  door  and  up  the  stairs  to  my  own  room,  where  I 
threw  myself  upon  the  bed  and  lay  without  moving,  until 
the  grey  twilight  passed  into  the  black  night.  Mine  was 
a  grief  too  vast  for  the  comfort  of  tears,  and  during  those 
hours  I  laid  upon  the  altar  of  sacrifice  the  last  and  only 
thing  I  had  not  offered  up  before — the  privilege  to  weep. 


CHAPTER  LVI 

IT  was  about  the  time  Jesse  sent  his  disciples  out  to 
preach  that  his  two  brothers,  who  had  watched  with  grow- 
ing anxiety  the  ever-increasing  crowds  that  followed  him, 
and  his  incomprehensible  exaltation,  came  to  harbour  the 
suspicion  that  he  was  not  in  his  right  mind.  They  con- 
fided their  fears  to  each  other  and  compared  their  obser- 
vations of  his  strange  ways. 

"  Did  you  see  how  his  eyes  glittered  last  night,  Henry, 
when  he  was  talking  about  a  coming  revolution  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Fred ;  and  did  you  notice  how  he  turned  away 
that  time  and  gazed  up  at  the  ceiling,  as  if  he  saw  things?  " 

The  elder  brother  nodded  his  head:  "I'm  afraid  we 
ought  to  consult  a  doctor." 

"  We   could    do   it   without    his   knowing." 

"  Mother  mustn't  know,  either.  He's  made  her  as 
crazy  as  himself.  She  actually  believes  that  he's  been  sent 
by  God  to  transform  the  world." 

"Yes,  there's  no  doubt  about  our  duty;  we  must  call 
in  a  doctor." 

The  medical  man  chosen  by  the  two  brothers  was  a 
middle-aged  country  practitioner,  who  knew  very  little 
about  insanity,  and  therefore  assumed  with  awesome  gravity 
the  responsibility  of  judgment  laid  upon  him.  He  was  to 
go  to  Jesse  in  the  guise  of  a  possible  convert,  having  thus 
an  opportunity  to  question  him  about  his  strange  beliefs. 
The  brothers  arranged  for  a  private  interview,  telling 
Jesse,  who  smiled  sadly  at  them,  that  the  doctor  was  a 
man  of  immense  influence  whose  conversion  would  bring 
glory  to  the  cause. 

Jesse  received  him  in  a  little  room  on  the  ground  floor 
used  by  Peter  Bond  as  an  office.  He  sat  in  Peter's  easy- 
chair  behind  the  flat-topped  desk,  and  motioned  his  visitor 
to  the  straight  chair  used  by  those  who  came  to  consult 
with  Peter  as  to  the  business  of  the  mill.  The  simple 
dignity  and  beauty  of  this  preacher  whose  brothers  thought 

354 


THE    SON    OF    MARY   BETHEL          355 

him  mad,  both  charmed  and  perplexed  the  man  of  medi- 
cine. But,  faithful  to  his  professional  errand,  he  asked 
to  be  enlightened  as  to  the  beauties  of  the  new  belief. 

Jesse  explained  to  him  the  meaning  of  the  Spirit,  the 
indwelling  Reality  which  is  both  God  and  the  soul  of  man ; 
he  spoke  of  the  love  of  fellow  beings  that  is  the  joy  of 
him  who  realises  the  unity  of  all  with  the  one  Spirit;  of 
the  faith  that  makes  man's  will  the  will  of  God;  of  the 
blissful  time  to  come  when  the  whole  world  would  be 
united  under  the  banner  of  love,  and  men  should  desire 
the  joys  of  the  Spirit  above  the  pleasures  of  the  flesh. 

"  A  beautiful  belief,"  said  the  doctor,  whose  alert  mind 
had  caught  every  idea  in  Jesse's  words,  "  a  very  beautiful  be- 
lief that  I  should  be  glad  to  see  realised.  But  will  you 
tell  me,"  he  added,  irrelevantly,  on  the  look-out  for  hal- 
lucinations, "  if  you  ever  hold  converse  with  spirits  and 
angels?" 

"  The  quest  of  the  Spirit,"  said  Jesse,  "  is  not  a  quest 
of  the  supernatural.  I  have  never  seen  an  angel,  nor  do 
I  know  of  anyone  who  has;  but  I  am  rilled  with  rapture 
every  day  by  discovering  some  angelic  quality  in  the  soul 
of  a  common  man." 

"  And  do  voices  ever  speak  to  you  out  of  the  air?  " 

"  The  voice  of  the  heart  says  that  all  men  are  brothers, 
and  sons  of  God." 

"Yes,  yes,  just  so,"  murmured  the  doctor.  Evidently, 
he  told  himself,  there  were  no  hallucinations.  Then  he 
took  another  course,  saying: 

"  This  work  of  yours  must  be  very  exhausting — the  con- 
stant preaching  and  healing,  the  urgent  crowds  that  fol- 
low you  everywhere.  Do  you  sleep  well  at  night  ?  " 

"  Yes,  thank  you." 

Jesse  now  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  looked  steadily 
and  sympathetically  at  his  questioner,  until  the  doctor 
grew  uneasy.  He  began  to  feel  as  if  he  were  being 
examined  as  to  his  sanity.  But  he  went  on  bravely. 

"  With  this  incessant  labour,  do  you  not  often  have 
pains  and  weariness  in  your  head  ?  " 

"  No.  I  have  never  had  a  headache  in  my  life,  that  I 
remember.  But  there  is  a  pain  which  I  have  much,  an 
almost  constant  pain." 


356          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"Yes?"     The  doctor  brightened  perceptibly. 

"  The  pain,"  said  Jesse,  "  is  in  my  heart,  which  aches 
with  pity  for  the  awful  suffering  of  humanity." 

"  I  feel  that,  too,"  responded  the  doctor,  who  was  a 
kind-hearted  man,  full  of  emotion.  "  In  my  Drofession  I 
see  so  much  suffering." 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  a  story,  Doctor?  "  Jesse's  smile  was 
like  the  smile  of  a  mother  for  her  child  at  the  twilight 
hour.  He  did  not  wait  for  an  answer,  but  went  on: 

"  There  were  two  children  who  lived  in  a  humble  house 
on  the  edge  of  a  large  green  meadow.  There  was  no 
garden  beside  the  house,  and  the  only  flowers  they  had 
ever  seen  were  simple  daisies  and  buttercups  and  dande- 
lions. 

"  One  day  the  children  found,  growing  upon  an  eleva- 
tion, a  strange  white  flower.  The  plant  had  been  there  a  long 
time,  though  it  had  not  blossomed  before.  Now  the  chil- 
dren had  been  warned  from  babyhood  never  to  touch 
an  unfamiliar  flower,  for  fear  it  might  be  poisonous;  and 
when  they  saw  the  great  white  blossom  they  distrusted 
it.  It  was  so  much  larger  than  the  daisies  and  buttercups 
and  dandelions  growing  in  the  meadow.  And  when  they 
drew  timidly  a  little  nearer,  and  the  sweet,  strong  scent 
of  the  flower  was  borne  to  them  on  the  air,  they  were  still 
more  afraid.  '  It  must  be  poisonous,'  they  said  to  one 
another,  '  it  is  so  large  and  smells  so  sweet.' 

"  Then  the  children  saw  a  stranger  passing  along  the 
road,  and  they  called  him  to  examine  the  strange  flower 
and  tell  them  whether  they  might  safely  touch  and  smell  it. 

" '  Why,'  said  the  stranger,  in  surprise,  '  this  blossom 
which  you  fear  to  touch  is  the  lily,  the  purest  and  sweetest 
flower  that  blows.  I  cannot  say  how  it  came  to  grow 
here  in  this  uncultivated  meadow,  where  there  are  only 
simple  daisies  and  buttercups  and  dandelions;  the  seed 
must  have  been  borne  on  the  wind  from  some  far-off  gar- 
den. But  enjoy  the  lily  while  you  may,  dear  children,  for 
its  life  is  brief.  Do  not  destroy  it,  and  from  its  seed  may 
possibly  grow  other  lilies  to  make  sweet  the  world.' " 

Jesse  leaned  toward  the  doctor.  "  Do  you  like  the 
story?  My  brothers  are  the  children,  and  I  am  the  large 


THE    SON    OF    MARY   BETHEL          357 

white  lily.  Though  the  plant  has  been  growing  near 
them  a  long  time,  it  has  not  blossomed  until  now." 

"  And  the  stranger  ?  "  The  doctor's  eyes  were  large 
and  bright. 

"  I  think,  my  friend,  that  you  are  the  stranger,"  was 
Jesse's  quiet  answer.  "  And  whenever  you  pass  this  way, 
stop  and  inhale  the  perfume  of  the  lily.  It  may  be  that 
you  will  find  healing  in  its  breath." 

He  arose,  and  the  doctor  passed  out  from  the  little  room 
and  on  to  the  verandah,  where  the  two  brothers  were  wait- 
ing for  him. 

"Well?"  whispered  Henry. 

"What  do  you  think?"  whispered  Fred. 

The  doctor  placed  a  kind  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  each 
of  the  young  men. 

"  I  think,"  he  said, — "  and  this  is  a  free  opinion,  for  which 
I  want  no  fee, — I  think  that  your  remarkable  brother  is 
the  sanest  man  in  all  this  crazy  world.  If  you  and  I 
were  as  sane  as  he  is,  we  might  measure  up  about  as  high 
as  his  knees;  but  as  it  is,  my  friends,  we  don't  even  come 
to  his  shoe-tops." 

"  You've  taken  a  load  off  our  minds."  declared  Fred. 

"  And  your  brother  has  taken  a  load  off  my  mind,"  the 
doctor  answered.  "All  my  life  I've  wanted  to  see  a 
great  man,  and  now  I've  seen  him.  There  are  twenty 
sick  folks  on  my  hands  just  now,  but  the  other  doctors 
will  be  glad  to  look  after  them.  I'm  going  to  drop  every- 
thing and  follow  this  light — wherever  it  leads  me." 

The  next  day  Jesse  left  Capronville,  going  out  to  preach 
in  the  villages  round  about,  and  the  physician  went  with 
him  as  a  new  disciple.  He  also  took  his  mother  and  the 
other  women,  and  those  among  the  men  who  had  not 
already  been  sent  out  alone;  but  he  advised  his  two 
brothers  to  return  to  their  families  in  Myra. 

"  It  is  better,"  he  told  them  in  parting,  "  to  tend  well 
one  small  square  foot  of  ground,  than  to  sow  thistles  in  the 
largest  field." 


CHAPTER  LVH 

ON  Jesse's  return  to  Capronville,  about  a  fortnight  later, 
the  first  friends  to  greet  him  at  the  station  were  Lawrence 
Lane  and  his  two  sisters.  Jesse  had  not  found  time  to 
write  to  Lawrence  since  the  early  spring;  but  ever  since 
that  summer  visit  of  the  Lanes  in  Myra,  five  years  before, 
Mary  Bethel  had  been  in  correspondence  with  the  girls, 
and  during  the  last  few  months  she  had  sent  them  full 
accounts  of  Jesse's  ministry.  They  knew  all  about  his 
preaching;  they  knew  of  the  cures  he  had  performed,  of 
the  multitudes  that  followed  and  believed  in  him,  of  the 
twelve  men  now  travelling  about  as  his  disciples  and 
speaking  in  his  name;  and  they  treasured  above  all  their 
other  possessions  the  fragmentary  extracts  from  his  ser- 
mons which  the  mother  had  been  able  to  write  down  for 
them. 

But,  notwithstanding  all  they  had  read  and  all  they 
had  imagined,  they  were  unprepared  for  a  meeting  with 
Jesse.  He  was  the  same  man  they  had  known — but  not 
the  same.  The  morning  star  had  become  the  blazing  sun. 
They  were  glad  that  the  crowd  at  the  station,  pressing 
round  him,  demanded  his  attention  for  a  time;  glad  that, 
after  the  first  greetings  were  over,  they  could  look  at 
him  and  listen  to  him  in  conversation  with  others,  while 
they  gradually  adjusted  themselves  to  the  change  which 
had  made  of  their  simple  friend  an  exalted  prophet  whose 
followers  could  not  be  counted,  and  whose  very  presence 
was  like  a  breeze  of  invigorating  mountain  air  in  the  heat 
of  a  dusty  valley. 

"  And  only  five  years  ago  we  used  to  talk  with  him, 
and  even  differ  from  him,  as  if  we  were  his  equals!  "  ex- 
claimed Martha  in  a  whisper  to  her  bewildered  brother. 

The  eyes  of  Mary  Lane  were  like  blue  fire  with  the 
intensity  of  her  feeling;  but  her  face  was  pale  and  her 
lips  were  still.  The  vague  emotion  of  the  girl,  which 
had  found  vent  in  lonely  tears  five  years  before,  and  had 

358 


359 

later  pined  and  died  for  lack  of  nourishment,  now  arose 
from  the  grave,  transformed  and  spiritualised — purer  it 
could  not  be,  but  more  ethereal.  What  might  have  been 
human  love,  in  reawakening  became  divine  devotion. 

They  saw  him  cure  a  cripple,  who  threw  away  his 
crutch  and  walked  like  any  other  man  at  Jesse's  word 
that  he  should  do  so;  they  saw  unemotional  New  Eng- 
landers  so  carried  away  by  emotion  for  this  man  that 
they  kissed  his  hands  and  even  his  garments,  forgetting 
their  habitual  reserve;  they  felt  the  atmosphere  of  other- 
worldness,  the  vibration  of  spirituality  which  surrounded 
him,  and  within  whose  radius  the  marvellous  seemed  nor- 
mal and  enthusiasm  seemed  inevitable.  They,  too,  were 
carried  away  by  the  Spirit  that  burned  in  Jesse,  even  as 
hundreds  of  others  had  been  before  them  and  as  thousands 
would  be  after  them.  Even  before  they  left  the  station 
and  started  with  Jesse  for  Peter's  house,  each  of  the  three 
had  made  a  secret  vow  to  live  by  the  light  of  Jesse's  faith. 
Though  they  could  hardly  have  defined  it,  yet  were  they 
filled  with  it. 

They  arrived  at  the  house  about  dinner-time,  and  Jesse 
asked  the  two  girls  to  sit  on  either  side  of  him  at  the  table, 
Lawrence  being  seated  next  to  his  sister  Mary  on  the  left- 
hand  side,  and  Mary  Bethel  next  to  Martha  on  the  right. 
Peter  and  the  other  men  were  still  away,  and  as  it  was 
impossible  for  them  to  feed  the  crowds  of  people  that  fol- 
lowed Jesse,  there  were  no  others  present  at  the  dinner 
that  day  except  the  women  who  were  always  with  him, 
the  recently  converted  doctor,  the  little  group  of  sweet- 
faced  children,  with  Peter's  wife  and  mother-in-law,  and 
the  handsome  middle-aged  woman  who  was  the  mother  of 
James  and  John  Dana.  Mary  Magnus  was  absent,  for 
the  first  time  since  she  had  joined  the  followers  of  Jesse 
in  the  early  summer.  A  matter  of  business  had  called  her 
to  Vergennes  that  morning,  nor  did  she  return  until  after 
Lawrence  and  his  sisters  had  ended  their  three  days'  visit. 
Thus  it  happened  that  they  did  not  meet  her  until  the 
following  year. 

In  his  gladness  at  seeing  these  friends  of  other  days, 
Jesse  seemed  to  his  mother  to  have  become  more  youthful; 
while  they,  in  turn,  were  exalted  by  his  presence,  so  that 


36o          THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

a  balance  was  struck  between  them,  and  all  were  now 
happy  and  at  ease. 

"  New  York  is  the  place  for  a  great  teacher,"  Lawrence 
said,  accepting  with  a  smile  the  bread  which  Jesse  offered 
him.  "  Do  you  not  intend  soon  to  come  down  to  us?  " 

"  I  do,"  replied  Jesse,  with  a  quick  glance  at  his  mother, 
which  she  understood  as  an  appeal  for  silence  regarding 
her  own  dread  of  New  York.  "  When  I  have  balanced 
my  accounts  with  those  whose  needs  I  serve  around  these 
farms  and  villages,  then  I  will  open  a  new  ledger  for  the 
more  extensive  business  of  the  Spirit  which  I  hope  to  carry 
on  with  the  great  city." 

"  And  will  you  not  employ  me  as  bookkeeper  in  the 
business  of  the  Spirit?"  Lawrence  asked,  falling  in  with 
Jesse's  mood  and  with  his  metaphor.  "  I  have  had  a  long 
experience  in  keeping  the  accounts  of  the  Spirit's  most 
formidable  rival — Matter." 

The  pseudo-master  never  ventures  to  play  with  his 
disciples,  nor  the  very  young  teacher  with  his  pupils;  but 
he  whose  mastership  and  authority  are  sure,  delights  in 
such  relaxation.  It  serves  as  an  elastic  spring-board  from 
which  to  leap  to  the  serious  heights  of  Truth. 

"I  cannot  pay  you  wages,"  Jesse  said;  "but  I  can 
promise  you  an  interest  in  the  business — a  gradually  in- 
creasing interest." 

John's  mother,  from  whom  her  son  had  not  inherited 
his  imagination,  was  puzzled  and  half-shocked  by  this  toying 
with  sacred  things;  but  Jesse,  seeing  the  trouble  in  her 
eyes,  gave  her  such  a  warm  and  reassuring  smile  that 
she  was  comforted  and  smiled  at  him  in  return. 

"  It  is  through  play,"  he  said  to  her,  "  that  all  young 
things  develop  strength  and  fit  themselves  for  the  labours 
of  maturity.  These  friends  of  mine  are  such  young  things 
in  the  spiritual  life,  that  I  encourage  them  to  frolic  with 
faith,  that  they  may  gather  strength.  The  Spirit  is  not 
resentful  of  familiarities.  Does  a  mother  reprove  her 
child  for  taking  liberties  with  her?  Many  respect  God 
without  loving  Him;  but  they  who  love  God  are  in  no 
danger  of  dishonouring  Him." 

So  Jesse  lessened,  by  subtle  words  and  tender  smiles, 
the  immeasurable  distance  which  separated  his  conscious- 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          361 

ness  from  the  consciousness  of  these  dear  ones  who  had 
loved  him  before  his  days  of  Mastership.  Then,  by 
gradual  degrees,  he  led  them  with  him  up  the  steep  height 
of  spiritual  aspiration. 

Jesse  was  to  preach  that  evening  at  the  twilight  hour, 
and  during  dinner  Mary  Bethel  told  the  visitors  about 
the  songs  which  had  been  composed  for  his  meetings,  and 
expressed  regret  that  Mary  Magnus  was  not  with  them 
now,  so  that  the  Lanes  might  hear  her  sing  the  songs. 

From  the  letters  of  Jesse's  mother,  Mary  Lane  had  con- 
ceived a  vivid  interest  in  "  the  other  Mary,"  as  she  called 
her,  an  interest  made  up  of  diverse  elements.  She  was 
not  conscious  of  being  jealous  of  the  brilliant  and  beautiful 
woman  who  bore  her  name,  but  she  was  keenly  disappointed 
that  she  was  not  to  see  for  herself  why  everyone  de- 
scribed her  as  so  fascinating  and  so  good.  She  was  less 
impressed  writh  the  knowledge  that  the  pale  girl  at  the 
end  of  the  table  had  written  the  words  of  the  songs  which 
Jesse  seemed  to  value  so  highly  than  she  was  with  the 
knowledge  that  the  absent  one,  "  the  other  Mary,"  had 
written  the  music.  Mary  Lane  knew  good  music  when 
she  heard  it,  and  after  dinner  she  got  the  songs  from  Anna 
Martin  and  played  them  over  on  the  piano.  Their  beauty 
made  her  sad ;  but  as  she  listened  to  the  harmonies  that 
flowed  from  beneath  her  fingers,  she  was  conscious  of  a 
strange  new  feeling — a  throbbing  in  her  heart  of  sisterly 
love  for  the  one  who  had  woven  those  harmonies.  How 
blest  was  she  in  being  privileged  to  serve  with  her  art 
"  the  Master,"  as  they  called  him !  The  Master !  And 
little  Mary  had  wept  in  the  long  ago  because  he  had  never 
seemed  to  love  her  any  better  than  he  loved  Lawrence  and 
Martha!  She  was  now  appalled  at  the  greatness  of  her 
presumption.  Sitting  alone  before  the  piano  she  let  her 
fingers  lie  motionless  in  her  lap,  while  she  repeated  softly 
to  herself,  "  The  Master,  the  Master."  Her  imagination 
took  fire.  She,  too,  would  be  his  disciple;  and  though 
she  could  not  make  great  music  for  his  cause,  she  could 
absorb,  and  give  again  to  others,  the  spirit  of  his  teachings. 

She  now  rose  from  the  piano  and  went  into  the  next 
room  where  Jesse  sat  surrounded  by  his  friends,  and  asked 
him  timidly  if  he  would  explain  to  her  more  fully  the 


362          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

faith  she  had  accepted  on  the  strength  of  her  faith  in 
him.  Lawrence  and  Martha  listened  also  to  Jesse's  clear 
exposition  of  the  cardinal  points  of  his  belief;  and  when, 
after  an  hour  or  more,  he  ceased  speaking,  all  three  de- 
clared themselves  his  converts,  Martha  with  strong,  de- 
cisive words,  Lawrence  more  quietly,  Mary  almost  inar- 
ticulately because  of  her  falling  tears. 

Three  days  they  remained,  the  limit  of  the  time  Law- 
rence could  be  spared  from  his  duties  in  the  city;  for  he 
was  not  one  of  those  whom  Jesse  advised  to  leave  every- 
thing and  be  with  him  constantly.  He  felt  that  these  three 
were  with  him,  wherever  they  might  be;  and  he  knew 
that  in  some  way  yet  to  be  revealed  these  friends  would 
better  serve  the  Spirit  by  preserving,  for  the  time,  their 
relations  with  the  complex  life  of  the  great  materialistic 
city.  But  though  they  questioned  him,  he  did  not  tell 
them  when  he  would  transfer  his  labours  to  the  larger 
field. 

"Write  to  me  constantly,"  he  said  to  them  in  parting, 
"  and  meditate  and  talk  together  constantly  on  all  that 
I  have  taught  you.  Though  I  cannot  say  when  I  shall 
come,  be  ready  for  my  coming  at  all  times." 


CHAPTER  LVIII 

DAILY  his  fame  increased,  and  daily  the  crowds  that 
flocked  to  see  and  hear  him  grew  larger.  Already  his 
name  was  well  known  from  one  end  of  the  little  State 
to  the  other,  and  paragraphs  about  a  strangely  beautiful 
young  religious  teacher  who  had  arisen  in  Vermont,  who 
cured  diseases  by  the  touch  of  his  hands  and  preached  an 
idealistic  faith,  began  to  appear  in  newspapers  all  over 
the  country.  Letters  from  strangers,  too  numerous  to 
answer,  poured  in  upon  him  from  all  sides.  He  continued 
to  preach  and  heal  the  sick  in  all  the  larger  towns  and 
villages  within  forty  miles  of  Capronville,  but  he  did  not 
go  again  to  the  North. 

The  North  came  to  him,  in  the  persons  of  two  followers 
of  the  famous  Hermit,  who  was  still  imprisoned  on  the 
unproven  charge  of  inciting  a  riot  which  ended  in  violence 
and  bloodshed. 

It  was  the  supper-hour  at  Peter's  house,  and  Jesse  sat 
at  one  end  of  the  long  table,  facing  the  door,  when  the 
two  grave  men  appeared.  The  happy  home,  the  smiling 
faces  of  the  men  and  women,  the  plentiful  fare,  were  sur- 
prising to  the  unbidden  guests  who  stood  at  the  door  of 
the  dining-room.  They  had  come  down  to  see  a  prophet 
like  their  own  stern  master,  and  they  found  a  smiling  man 
who  was  the  centre  of  what  seemed  to  them  a  scene  of 
revelry  and  feasting.  Though  Jesse's  first  disciples  were 
still  absent,  preaching  in  other  towns,  their  places  were 
filled  by  his  new  followers  and  friends;  and  there  were 
many  women  among  them,  young  as  well  as  old.  How 
different  was  this  scene  from  the  one  on  which  these  pil- 
grims had  turned  their  backs  but  a  few  hours  before!  At 
noon  they  were  in  a  bare  room  in  a  northern  jail,  where 
an  emaciated,  fiery-eyed  prophet  exhorted  his  fellow  pris- 
oners to  repentance;  at  sunset  they  beheld  the  new  teacher, 
whose  fame  already  eclipsed  their  master's,  seated  at  the 
head  of  a  flower-strewn  table,  eating  and  drinking  with 

363 


364          THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

his  happy  friends,  like  one  for  whose  word  no  suffering 
world  was  waiting.  They  watched  him  a  few  moments 
from  the  shadow  of  the  doorway;  then,  knocking  on  the 
panel  to  make  known  their  presence,  they  advanced  into 
the  room. 

"  You  are  welcome,"  Jesse  said  to  them,  with  his  tender 
smile.  "  Have  you  come  to  join  the  company  of  those  who 
love  the  Spirit  better  than  the  body?  " 

"  We  are  come  from  the  Hermit  who  languishes  in 
prison,"  was  their  answer.  "  He  sent  us  to  ask  if  you 
are  really  the  one  whom  he  has  sought." 

The  eyes  of  Jesse  filled  with  tears.  "  How  cruelly 
your  master  must  have  suffered  in  his  prison,  if  he  has 
come  to  doubt  the  truth  of  his  own  spiritual  recognition 
of  me!" 

Peter's  wife,  at  a  sign  from  Jesse,  laid  plates  and  cups 
for  the  strangers;  and  her  old  mother,  whom  Jesse  had 
raised  from  a  sick-bed  on  his  return  from  the  North, 
brought  food  and  drink  for  them. 

"  He  did  not  bid  us  tell  you  that  he  doubted;  only  to 
ask  if  indeed  you  are  the  one,"  the  elder  of  the  men  de- 
clared. 

Jesse  turned  to  an  eager  youth,  one  of  his  new  friends, 
who  was  standing  behind  his  chair.  "  If  there  are  any 
waiting  outside  who  wish  to  be  cured,  you  may  bring 
them  in  here." 

The  youth  returned,  followed  by  a  score  of  men  and 
women  who  crowded  about  the  doorway.  From  this  back- 
ground three  persons  separated  themselves  and  came  toward 
Jesse:  a  young  mother  holding  in  her  arms  a  little  child 
wailing  with  some  feverish  disease,  an  old  man  bent  with 
years  and  weakness,  and  a  wild-eyed  girl  whose  family 
thought  her  insane  because  she  had  not  spoken  a  word^  to 
anyone  for  more  than  a  month. 

Jesse  arose  from  the  table.  He  stood  for  a  moment  with 
closed  eyes,  in  silent  invocation  of  the  Spirit  within,  while 
the  two  visitors  watched  him  with  breathless  expectation. 
Then  he  lifted  the  feverish,  wailing  child  in  his  arms  and 
cooled  and  stilled  it,  as  he  had  done  with  that  other  child 
in  the  dooryard  of  his  old  home  in  Nashburgh.  With  a 
sigh  of  comfort  it  fell  asleep,  and  he  gave  it  back  to  the 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          365 

mother,  who  kissed  his  hands  and  murmured  tearful 
thanks.  He  straightened  up  the  bent  old  man,  giving  him 
of  his  own  vigour,  until  a  look  almost  like  that  of  youth 
came  into  the  dull  eyes,  and  the  shoulders  squared  them- 
selves for  another  trial  in  the  battle  of  life.  He  took  the 
hands  of  the  wild-eyed  girl  who  had  not  spoken  a  word 
for  several  weeks,  and  looking  deep  into  her  troubled  soul, 
he  soothed  that,  too,  as  he  had  soothed  the  wailing  child. 
And  then  he  questioned  her,  charming  away  her  dumb- 
ness by  the  sweetness  of  his  appeal. 

"  Will  you  not  tell  me  your  name?" 

"  Susie  London."  Her  voice  was  clear  and  natural,  af- 
ter a  month  of  silence,  and  the  eyes  which  had  been  so  wild 
a  little  while  before  were  now  grown  soft  and  wide,  like 
those  of  a  child. 

"  Susie,  I  have  a  friend  here,  Rose  Thomas,"  and  Jesse 
took  the  hand  of  Rose,  who  stood  near,  placing  it  in  the 
hand  of  the  girl.  "  I  knew  her  when  I  was  a  little  child, 
Susie;  and  sometimes,  when  she  wished  to  make  me  very 
happy,  she  would  read  to  me  beautiful  things  from  the 
Psalms  of  David :  '  He  that  dwelleth  in  the  secret  place 
of  the  most  High  shall  abide  under  the  shadow  of  the  Al- 
mighty. I  will  say  of  the  Lord,  He  is  my  refuge  and  my 
fortress:  my  God;  in  Him  will  I  trust.'  Would  you  not 
like  her  to  read  those  things  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  should  like  it  very  much,  if  she  would  be  so  kind." 
There  was  something  pathetic  in  the  tones  of  the  girl's 
voice  and  in  her  manner,  half  shy,  half  joyous.  She  seemed 
like  a  child  who  has  been  ill,  taken  out  for  the  first  time 
into  the  air  and  sunshine  of  a  blossomy  garden. 

"  She  will  read  to  you  for  a  little  while,"  Jesse  con- 
tinued, "  and  her  voice  is  very  sweet  and  comforting.  Then, 
when  you  are  tired,  she  will  put  you  to  bed,  and  sit  be- 
side you  until  you  fall  asleep.  In  the  morning  you  will 
find  her  there  when  you  awake,  and  after  breakfast  she 
will  take  you  home  to  your  mother,  and  you  will  tell  your 
mother  all  about  it." 

The  girl  followed  Rose  Thomas  from  the  room,  smiling 
back  over  her  shoulder  at  Jesse.  When  she  was  gone,  he 
sent  one  of  the  young  men  into  the  village  to  tell  her 
mother,  from  whom  she  had  evidently  run  away,  that  she 


366          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

would  remain  in  Peter  Bond's  house  that  night.  Then 
he  turned  again  to  the  two  messengers  of  John  the  Her- 
mit, who  had  been  gravely  looking  on  at  all  these  things. 

"  When  you  return  to  your  master,"  he  said,  "  tell  him 
what  you  have  just  now  seen.  But  if  you  are  still  doubt- 
ful, you  may  see  greater  things.  The  very  children  in  the 
streets  of  Capronville  and  the  neighbouring  villages  can 
tell  you  what  has  been  done  in  the  name  of  the  Spirit. 
And  he  who  shall  truly  understand  these  things  shall  be 
happy  for  ever." 

The  two  messengers  then  started  on  their  return  jour- 
ney to  the  Hermit. 

The  rumour  of  their  presence  in  Capronville  had  spread 
through  the  village,  and  Jesse  went  down  to  the  public 
square  that  evening  to  speak  to  the  people  about  John. 
Great  crowds  now  followed  him  wherever  he  went;  and 
whenever  he  walked  abroad,  men  and  women  seemed  to  rise 
out  of  the  earth  and  join  him.  When  he  was  at  Peter's 
house,  whole  families  from  the  neighbouring  towns  camped 
out  on  the  hill  beyond.  The  entire  population  of  that  re- 
gion was  stirred  out  of  its  routine  of  life  by  the  fire  and 
enthusiasm  of  this  one  man.  He  was,  one  may  truly  say, 
a  visitor  from  another  stratum  of  consciousness,  and  the 
swift  vibration  of  his  presence  electrified  the  slower  lives 
around  him. 

"  He  whom  men  call  the  Hermit  is  now  indeed  a  soli- 
tary," he  told  the  people  that  night,  with  the  play  upon 
words  which  was  always  a  favourite  way  of  his  in  forcing 
home  an  idea.  "  He  is  in  prison,  but  he  is  still  John. 
Did  you  expect  to  see  him  trembling  before  the  judgment 
of  some  petty  magistrate?  Did  you  expect  to  see  him  re- 
clining on  the  sofas  of  the  rich,  or  fawning  in  the  council- 
chamber  of  the  Governor?  John  will  never  do  any  of  these 
things.  But  if  you  have  thought  to  see  an  inspired  man 
looking  fearlessly  in  the  face  of  a  hostile  and  uncompre- 
hending world,  then  you  have  seen  that  man  in  John  the 
Hermit. 

"  He  who  dwells  in  the  Spirit  cannot  be  confined  by 
prison  bars  and  doors. 

"  Nor  is  it  necessary  that  a  man's  body  be  devoured  by 
the  worms  of  the  earth  in  order  that  he  may  dwell  in  the 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          367 

Spirit.  The  way  of  the  grave  is  not  tht  way  of  the  Spirit. 
He  who  has  not  pursued  the  indwelling  Spirit  during  life 
will  not  be  pursued  by  the  Spirit  after  death;  and  he  who 
has  not  attained  the  Spirit  during  life  will  not  attain  the 
Spirit  after  death.  Only  he  who  beats  upon  the  doors  of 
the  spiritual  home  and  will  not  be  denied  shall  enter  and 
dwell  therein.  But  from  the  day  when  John  the  Hermit 
found  the  object  of  his  quest  until  this  hour,  the  spiritual 
doors  have  been  shaken  by  the  onset  of  those  who  have 
demanded  to  pass  through  them. 

"Those  who  read  by  the  letter  of  fact  instead  of  by  the 
soul  of  truth  may  ask,  '  How  can  a  spiritual  place  have 
doors?'  But  only  by  the  use  of  material  symbols  can  I 
teach  you  spiritual  truths.  The  language  of  the  inner 
spheres  is  understood  only  by  those  who  dwell  therein. 

"  John  the  Hermit  is  the  greatest  of  all  those  who 
have  not  forced  the  spiritual  doors  by  Love — which  is  the 
only  password.  But  do  not  think  that  in  one  short  life  in 
human  form  a  man  may  acquire  the  power  that  is  in  John. 
Many  times  must  the  revolving  periods  of  day  and  night 
pass  round  the  globe  before  an  acorn  can  become  an  oak- 
tree.  But  through  the  darkest  night  the  sapling  preserves 
its  identity,  to  reappear  in  the  light  of  dawn  a  little  larger 
with  the  growth  of  the  preceding  day  and  night. 

"  John  himself  has  declared  that  he  is  the  messenger  who 
goes  before  the  dawn.  And  this  is  not  the  first  time  he  has 
appeared  before  the  dawn  of  a  new  era.  He  has  been 
known  in  other  ages;  and  so  have  you  and  I,  and  all  men. 

"  Nothing  is  ever  exactly  repeated,  not  even  a  blade  of 
grass.  But  that  which  has  been  before  shall  be  again." 


CHAPTER  LIX 

HOWEVER  great  the  power  of  Jesse  over  the  pure,  the 
simple-hearted  and  the  young,  in  the  villages  where  he 
preached  and  healed  the  sick  there  were  some  who  not  only 
did  not  believe  in  him  nor  his  mission,  but  sought  to  dis- 
credit both.  Among  these  were  most  of  the  clergy  of  those 
towns. 

"  Have  we  not  the  Bible  for  a  guide  ? "  they  asked. 
"  Must  we  sit  at  the  feet  of  this  young  man  for  instruc- 
tion in  religion?  Why,  he  has  not  even  been  ordained  to 
preach ! " 

If  anyone  reminded  them  that  none  of  the  great  prophets 
had  been  so  ordained,  they  shook  their  heads  and  declared 
that  the  days  of  inspiration  were  over.  Some,  mistaking 
the  light  of  his  countenance,  affirmed  that  he  was  crazy; 
others,  seeing  that  he  healed  the  sick  without  a  doctor's 
certificate,  wanted  to  have  him  punished  for  the  illegal  prac- 
tise of  medicine;  but,  as  he  accepted  no  fee,  and  no  per- 
son died  as  the  result  of  his  ministrations,  they  could  not 
effect  this  purpose;  others,  again,  seeing  the  great  numbers 
of  women,  young  and  old,  that  surrounded  and  adored 
him,  made  veiled  insinuations  regarding  what  they  called 
the  morality  of  his  influence.  It  was  even  counted  against 
him  in  that  region,  as  in  Nashburgh,  that  men  left  their 
homes  to  follow  him. 

In  some  places  the  ministers  came  together  in  a  body  to 
question  him,  trying  to  entrap  him  into  some  admission 
which  could  be  used  against  him;  but  they  always  went 
away  baffled,  like  those  six  ministers  who  had  come  to 
Peter's  house  in  Capronville.  A  few  of  the  clergy,  a  very 
few,  were  moved  by  his  sincerity  and  the  beauty  of  his 
teaching,  and  even  offered  him  the  hospitality  of  their 
houses  of  worship  (after  discreet  consultation  with  the 
contributing  church-members)  ;  but  as  no  church  could 
hold  a  tithe  of  the  multitudes  that  flocked  to  hear  him,  he 
could  not  accept  their  offers,  though  he  acknowledged 
them  with  gentleness  and  courtesy.  So  great  was  his  con- 

368 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          369 

sideration  for  these  men,  that  his  Sunday  sermons  were 
now  always  given  in  the  afternoon,  instead  of  in  the 
morning.  Otherwise  the  churches  in  whatever  town  he 
was  visiting  would  have  been  empty;  for  while  many 
might  deny  and  even  revile  him,  none  who  had  once  come 
under  the  charm  of  his  presence  could  keep  away  from  him. 
The  minds  of  men  might  say  no  to  his  appeal,  but  the 
souls  of  men  he  bound  as  by  a  spell.  So  the  clergy  were 
more  troubled  over  this  one  man  who  turned  his  face  to 
the  Spirit  than  over  the  many  sinners  who  turned  their 
backs  upon  repentance. 

Jesse  was  again  in  Capronville  when  those  whom  he 
had  sent  out  to  preach  his  doctrine  returned  and  gave  ac- 
count of  their  labours.  Though  they  came  from  different 
directions,  they  all  arrived  on  the  same  day.  He  had  sent 
no  letters  to  summon  them  together;  they  came  as  if  im- 
pelled by  that  guidance  he  had  told  them  to  listen  for  in  the 
silence  of  their  own  hearts. 

"  We  have  preached  your  word  and  you,  and  we  have 
healed  the  sick,  even  as  you  bade  us,"  Peter  said;  and  the 
stories  of  the  others  echoed  his. 

"  Now  you  shall  all  be  with  me  again  for  a  little  while, 
face  to  face,"  he  promised  them.  "  And  when  you  have 
refilled  your  baskets  from  the  storehouse  of  the  Spirit,  you 
shall  go  out  again  among  those  who  are  starving  for 
spiritual  bread. 

He  was  preaching  in  a  large  village  some  miles  east  of 
Capronville  when  the  news  reached  him  that  John  the  Her- 
mit had  died  in  his  northern  prison.  Grieved  that  the 
world  was  now  bereft  of  the  speaking  presence  of  that 
strong  and  valiant  soul,  Jesse  immediately  left  the  town 
and  went  eastward,  seeking  the  comfort  of  the  quiet  moun- 
tains, and  taking  with  him  only  the  twelve  men  who  had 
been  chosen  and  sealed  as  his  principal  coworkers.  But 
the  crowds  that  had  gathered  to  hear  him  would  not  be 
denied;  when  they  learned  the  direction  he  had  taken  they 
followed  a  long  distance,  and  overtook  him  in  a  lonely 
place  in  the  shadow  of  the  mountain.  After  many  hours, 
during  which  he  taught  them  of  the  unseen  spiritual  world 
surrounding  and  interpenetrating  the  visible  world,  he  sent 


370         THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

them  back  again  to  the  places  whence  they  came,  filled 
with  the  consciousness  of  the  indwelling  Presence. 

When  Jesse  and  the  twelve  sat  together  in  the  early 
moonlight,  after  the  crowd  had  been  dismissed,  John  said: 

"  Master,  you  have  fed  to-day  a  hungry  multitude  with 
spiritual  bread." 

"And  yet  we  have  plenty  for  ourselves,"  replied  Jesse. 
"  As  I  have  told  you  before,  we  can  never  really  possess 
anything  until  we  have  given  it  away.  To-day  we  have 
fed  a  great  multitude  with  the  bread  of  the  Spirit,  and  yet," 
glancing  round  the  circle  of  twelve  men,  "  there  remain  to 
us  twelve  baskets  full" 

"  We  are,  indeed,  baskets  filled  to  the  rim  and  piled  up 
with  the  bread  of  heaven,"  James  said,  and  the  others  an- 
swered, "  Yes." 

Then  they  talked  together  of  the  Hermit  who  was  dead; 
and  Andrew,  who  had  spent  some  time  with  him  before  he 
followed  this  gentler  master,  told  them  stories  of  the  austere 
life  of  him  who  no  longer  had  a  body  to  chasten  by  fast- 
ing and  vigils. 

It  was  that  same  night  when  Peter,  in  answer  to  Jesse's 
question  as  to  w hat  they  believed  him  to  be,  made  the  po- 
tent declaration  that  he  was  the  very  Spirit  made  flesh, 
the  incarnation  of  God.  The  other  men,  who  had  often 
asked  themselves  the  question  without  daring  the  supreme 
answer  made  by  Peter,  were  stirred  to  the  depths  by  this 
confirmation  of  their  own  thought.  But  why  had  he  chosen 
them,  simple  and  ignorant  men,  for  his  intimate  compan- 
ions, when  the  wisest  of  the  earth  might  have  been  sitting 
at  his  feet,  in  their  places?  He  answered  their  unspoken 
question : 

"  Does  not  the  mother  reveal  to  the  simple  and  un- 
learned children  at  her  knee  wonders  of  love  she  could  not 
speak  to  the  wisest  of  grown  men  and  women?  By  the 
very  simplicity  of  your  minds  are  you  able  to  receive  the 
profoundest  wisdom — which  is  always  simple.  But  the 
time  is  not  come  when  you  can  wisely  reveal  to  others  all 
you  know  and  feel  about  me." 

Then  he  spoke  to  them  again  concerning  the  death  of 
the  Hermit,  and  reminded  them  that  all  who  wear  the 
garment  of  the  flesh  must  lay  it  off. 


"  Even  I,"  he  said,  "  shall  become  invisible  some  day. 
But  when  you  no  longer  see  me,  I  shall  be  present  with 
you  as  a  breath,  an  influence,  leading  you  on  in  the  minis- 
try of  revealing  the  Spirit  to  the  men  of  earth.  When  I  am 
dead,  the  work — the  preaching  of  the  faith — must  still  con- 
tinue." 

"  When  you  are  dead ! "  It  was  a  hoarse  cry  from  the 
lips  of  all. 

'  Yes,  for  the  time  is  not  far  off  when  I  must  make 
the  final  sacrifice  of  the  flesh  to  the  Spirit.  The  autumn 
will  soon  be  here.  Through  the  winter  I  shall  be  with 
you;  but  when  the  spring  comes  up  from  the  South  I  must 
go  down  to  meet  it,  down  to  the  great  city  where  I  must 
lay  the  final  stone  in  the  temple  of  my  faith — the  great 
city  where  my  bodily  death  will  be  the  price  of  spiritual 
victory.  And  I  shall  die  by  violence  at  the  hands  of  those 
who  shall  reject  the  Spirit." 

Peter  sprang  to  his  feet.  "  Master,  it  must  not  be !  " 
he  cried.  "  It  shall  not  be ! "  And  he  took  hold  of  Jesse, 
as  if  to  draw  him  back  by  force  from  the  threatening  fu- 
ture. 

Jesse's  look  was  a  reproof,  before  he  spoke: 

"  Is  it  better,  then,  that  you  should  enjoy  the  pleasure 
of  my  presence,  and  my  mission  be  unfulfilled?  Would 
you  hold  me  back  from  the  purpose  for  which  I  came  into 
the  world?  " 

"  But  if  you  die,"  persisted  Peter,  "  how  can  your  pur- 
pose be  fulfilled  ?  Can  a  man  work  after  he  is  dead  ?  " 

The  wind  was  rising  in  the  mountains  before  them,  and 
its  low  murmur  sounded  like  a  warning  from  the  vast 
powers  of  Nature  that  watched  and  listened.  John  shivered, 
and  drew  his  coat  closer  about  him. 

"  To  die  is  a  part  of  my  work,"  the  Master  went  on, 
his  voice  rising  with  the  voice  of  the  wind.  "  Can  I  not 
speak  with  your  tongues  when  my  own  shall  be  silent? 
Only  he  who  can  live  without  my  bodily  presence  shall  feel 
my  spirit  constantly  within  him.  When  the  self  no  longer 
cries  for  anything,  then  the  soul  comes  into  its  divine  in- 
heritance." 

John's  hand  went  out  and  sought  the  hand  of  Jesse. 
The  boy's  face  was  wet  with  tears. 


372          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"There  is  always  a  price  set,"  the  thrilling  voice  went 
on.  "  The  price  of  the  ecstasy  of  motherhood  is  the  pain 
of  giving  birth.  The  price  of  immortality  is  death." 

"  Master,  is  not  your  life  too  valuable  to  be  sacrificed  ?  " 
It  was  Andrew  who  spoke;  and  though  he  asked  a  question, 
his  tone  had  all  the  firmness  of  an  affirmation. 

Jesse  answered :  "  When  a  man  shall  know  his  life  to 
be  more  valuable  than  the  life  of  any  other,  then  will  he 
be  willing  to  sacrifice  that  life  upon  the  altar  of  the  world." 

They  were  heavy-hearted.  That  very  night  they  had  de- 
clared him  to  be  the  supreme  Spirit  in  man's  form,  and  even 
then  he  was  preparing  to  die  the  death  of  an  ordinary  man! 
The  twelve  composed  their  limbs  to  rest;  but  for  a  long 
time  sleep  would  not  come  near  them. 

Judson,  especially,  was  restless  and  miserable.  Was 
this  pleasant  life  to  last  a  few  months  only?  When  Jesse 
had  sent  the  men  out  to  preach  he  had  sent  Judson  and 
Andrew  together,  and  the  ministry  of  these  two  had  been 
less  brilliant  than  some  of  the  others.  And  now  unwel- 
come doubts  came  whispering  to  this  disciple.  The  Mas- 
ter had  spoken  of  death  by  violence,  spoken  of  the  rejection 
of  his  teaching.  Were  they  then  to  be  dishonoured  in  the 
eyes  of  the  world?  Judson  had  had  enough  of  dishonour. 
For  hours  he  turned  from  side  to  side,  listening  to  the 
wind  among  the  mountains;  and  in  the  morning  he  was 
haggard  and  absent-minded. 

They  were  in  Rutland  the  following  day,  when  a  letter 
was  brought  to  Jesse  from  a  man  who  wrote  on  behalf  of 
the  Governor  of  the  State,  saying  there  were  many  promi- 
nent persons  in  the  North,  including  that  high  official  him- 
self, who  were  desirous  to  see  and  hear  the  young  preacher 
of  whom  such  remarkable  stories  were  told. 

Peter  read  the  letter  aloud  to  the  little  band,  as  they  sat 
at  dinner  in  the  house  of  one  of  their  new  converts;  and  the 
heart  of  the  troubled  Judson  again  beat  high  in  his  bosom. 

"  Now,  surely,  Master,  that  is  an  honour,"  he  cried, 
"when  the  Governor  himself  sends  for  you!  If  you  can 
win  his  support,  and  the  support  of  the  other  prominent 
persons  spoken  of  in  the  letter,  why,  all  the  things  you 
dread  may  be  avoided." 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          373 

Jesse  looked  at  him  some  moments  before  answering. 

"  You  mistake,"  he  said,  "  I  dread  nothing.  And  how 
high  must  be  your  respect  for  the  indwelling  and  immortal 
One,  when  you  think  It  can  be  honoured  by  the  Governor 
and  other  prominent  persons!  " 

"  But  surely "  Judson  began ;  then  wavered,  for  he 

knew  not  what  to  say. 

"  My  mission  is  not  to  appease  the  idle  curiosity  of 
prominent  persons,"  Jesse  went  on,  "  but  to  speak  the  word 
of  spiritual  life  to  all  who  will  hear  it.  These  prominent 
persons  are  too  well  satisfied  with  their  own  prominence 
to  exchange  it  for  the  humility  of  spiritual  service.  It  is 
not  they  through  whom  the  world  will  be  transformed. 
Shall  the  denier  of  self  be  fed  from  the  plate  of  the  self- 
satisfied?  Will  a  ruler  sign  the  warrant  for  his  own  exe- 
cution? " 

Then  Jesse  turned  to  Peter,  giving  him  instructions 
to  write  to  the  man  who  wrote  for  the  Governor,  saying 
that  the  messenger  of  the  coming  spiritual  era  would  con- 
tinue to  deliver  his  word  to  seekers  after  truth  in  the  re- 
gion where  he  then  was;  and  that  all  who  came  to  him, 
rich  and  poor,  were  given  to  drink  of  the  same  cup,  in 
faith  and  brotherly  love. 

A  few  days  later  Jesse  took  the  three  who  were  now 
nearest  to  him,  Peter,  James  and  John,  and  again  sought 
the  solitude  of  a  night  upon  the  mountain.  It  was  the 
time  of  the  full  moon,  and  the  surface  of  the  little  mountain 
stream,  the  smooth  bark  of  the  birch-trees,  and  every  leaf 
swaying  in  the  wind,  seemed  touched  with  silver.  He  led 
them  on  and  up,  to  the  very  top  of  the  mountain;  and  be- 
fore they  fell  asleep,  wearied  with  much  walking,  the  last 
thing  their  eyes  rested  on  was  the  form  of  their  Master, 
standing  in  prayer  a  little  way  from  them,  his  palms  ex- 
tended, his  face  uplifted  to  the  moon,  and  all  his  being 
flooded  and  illumined  with  the  unearthly  radiance. 

As  they  closed  their  eyes  on  the  entrancing  picture,  their 
souls  passed  out  into  that  mystic  mid-region  between  the 
waking  world  and  the  ocean  of  sleep — the  region  of  visions 
wherein  seers  behold  those  wonders  which,  recorded  in  wise 
books,  are  mankind's  most  precious  promises  of  another  and 


374          THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

purer  existence,  outside  the  present  limitations  of  flesh 
and  time  and  space.  And  as  the  unveiled  sun,  the  sun  it- 
self, must  be  far  brighter  than  as  we  see  it  through  the 
mists  of  the  earth-atmosphere,  so  the  unveiled  Reality  of 
their  Master,  as  they  saw  him  thus  in  spiritual  vision,  was 
far  more  luminous  and  beautiful  than  the  physical  appear- 
ance they  had  seen  a  moment  before  upon  the  moonlit 
mountain.  The  souls  of  the  three  men  beheld  the  same 
vision  at  the  same  moment  of  time — their  Master  trans- 
figured and  shining  with  such  light  as  never  may  be  seen 
by  open  earthly  eyes.  And  in  the  vision  he  was  not  alone, 
for  angelic  forms  were  with  him,  and  he  seemed  to  hold 
converse  with  them. 

In  that  strange  mid-region  sound  comes  as  well  as  sight, 
though  it  comes  more  rarely.  The  inner  ears  of  the  three 
men  were  opened  for  the  mystic  hearing,  and  a  voice  de- 
clared to  them  transcendent  things  about  their  Master, 
things  they  were  afterward  forbidden  to  repeat.  And  their 
souls  were  overwhelmed  with  wonder  and  weak  with  hu- 
man fear. 

Awaking  from  the  vision  and  opening  their  eyes,  they 
perceived  that  Jesse  had  touched  them.  Tall,  calm  and 
beautiful,  he  stood  alone  in  the  moonlight;  the  ethereal  be- 
ings they  had  seen  in  converse  with  him  were  no  longer 
there.  They  knew  they  had  not  been  dreaming,  knew  they 
had  been  instructed  by  a  Power  beyond  their  comprehen- 
sion; though  the  full  meaning  of  its  message  was  only  to 
be  realised  in  after  years. 


So  the  summer  and  autumn  passed,  each  month  crowded 
with  incidents  too  numerous  to  record.  Among  those  who 
absorbed  the  teachings  of  Jesse  Bethel  were  many  others, 
besides  the  twelve,  whom  he  sent  out  to  preach  as  soon  as 
they  were  ready  for  the  trust.  Even  beyond  Burlington 
in  the  North  these  new  disciples  went,  and  below  Ben- 
nington  in  the  South;  so  that  by  the  time  the  early  snow 
made  outdoor  preaching  difficult,  there  was  hardly  a  town 
of  any  size  throughout  the  little  State  which  had  not  lis- 
tened to  the  thrilling  voice  of  one  of  Jesse's  messengers; 
hardly  a  man  or  woman  who  had  not  heard  the  prophecy 
of  a  coming  revolution,  by  which  the  powers  of  gold  and 
greed  and  selfishness  should  be  laid  low,  and  the  gentle  in- 
fluences of  love  and  faith  should  be  triumphant — a  revolu- 
tion that  would  exalt  the  universal  possessions  of  the  Spirit 
above  the  personal  vanities  of  the  flesh. 

There  were  many  to  whom  these  teachings  were  mere 
empty  words;  but  there  were  many  others  to  whom  they 
came  like  the  songs  of  their  own  beloved  country  to  exiles 
in  a  foreign  land.  For,  as  Jesse  said,  the  children  and 
lovers  of  the  Spirit  are  always  exiles  in  a  world  where 
Greed  and  Matter  are  sovereign  and  god.  But  not  yet 
had  the  time  come  for  the  prophet  of  the  new  era  to  at- 
tack these  monsters  in  their  central  stronghold — the  great 
city  where  Greed  and  Matter  are  Church  and  State, 
where  the  values  of  spiritual  things  are  quoted  in  the  mar- 
ket, and  Beauty  and  Poetry  are  always  in  pawn. 

The  winter  is  very  cold  in  that  part  of  New  England, 
and  the  snow  is  deep;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  the  time 
of  greatest  leisure  with  the  farming  population.  Jesse 
continued  to  send  his  disciples  here  and  there  through  the 
coldest  months,  though  they  were  obliged  to  speak  in  public 
halls,  sometimes  hired  for  the  purpose,  in  those  towns 

375 


376          THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

where  the  use  of  the  churches  was  refused  them.  Jesse's 
cousin,  Jim  Bethel,  whose  wife  and  brother  had  joined  them 
at  Capronville  after  the  autumn  harvesting,  was  one  of  the 
men  whom  Jesse  sent  out  to  preach  during  the  winter;  but 
he  did  not  send  him  to  their  native  place. 

The  propaganda  of  the  new  faith  was  not  hampered  by 
the  lack  of  funds,  for  Mary  Magnus  was  rich,  and  Peter 
and  Andrew  and  several  of  the  new  disciples  were  far 
from  being  poor.  But  no  large  amount  of  money  was 
needed  for  this  work,  as  the  travelling  disciples  were  in 
nearly  all  cases  welcomed  with  enthusiasm  in  the  houses 
of  those  who  were  eager  to  learn  about  Jesse  Bethel. 

Indeed,  so  great  was  the  public  curiosity  regarding  him, 
that  a  few  penniless  and  dishonest  men  with  ready  tongues, 
who  had  merely  heard  him  preach  somewhere  and  had 
picked  up  a  few  of  his  phrases,  found  shelter  and  food  on 
many  a  cold  night  by  pretending  to  be  his  disciples,  and 
relating  to  their  fascinated  hosts,  thus  gained  by  fraud,  true 
stories  of  the  lovely  personality,  the  sermons  and  marvel- 
lous cures  of  Jesse  Bethel.  So  many  an  insincere  and  self- 
appointed  minister,  in  every  age,  has  filled  his  stomach  and 
warmed  his  hands  by  repeating  the  immortal  words  of  a 
great  teacher. 

At  one  time,  in  the  early  autumn,  many  of  Jesse's  new 
followers  had  left  him,  shocked  by  his  fearless  speech  and 
bewildered  by  the  strange  symbolical  language  in  which 
he  often  clothed  the  naked  beauty  of  his  thought.  But 
for  every  one  who  went  away,  two  new  ones  came;  and 
even  of  those  deserters  who  had  believed  they  could  live 
without  him,  more  than  a  few  returned  in  shame  to  throw 
themselves  upon  his  pity  and  forgiveness.  And  he  did  not 
turn  them  away. 

"  As  the  mother  receives  back  a  runaway  child,"  he  said 
to  them,  "  so  I  receive  you  back.  As  the  doors  of  the  heart 
of  God  which  never  close,  so  are  the  doors  of  my 
heart." 

And  they  who  thus  returned  in  shame,  and  were  received 
with  pity  and  love,  were  faithful  to  him  thereafter  even 
unto  death. 

Peter  and  Judson  were  at  first  much  troubled  at  this  let- 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          377 

ting  down  of  the  bars  of  mercy  to  the  runaway  sheep  that 
came  to  bleat  outside. 

"  Shall  the  faithless  be  even  as  the  faithful  ? "  Peter 
asked.  "  Must  I  receive  in  my  house  these  men  who  turned 
against  my  Master?" 

"  You  need  not  receive  them  in  your  house,"  was  Jesse's 
gentle  answer.  "  I  can  break  with  them  the  bread  of  for- 
giveness under  the  open  sky;  and  as  it  rains  to-day,  there 
will  be  no  need  to  explain  the  moisture  in  our  eyes,  which 
may  be  the  moisture  of  heaven.  He  who  bars  his  door 
against  the  angels  of  pity  and  forgiveness,  will  always  find 
his  Master  upon  the  outside." 

"I  am  myself  unworthy  to  be  your  disciple!"  Peter 
cried.  "I  see  that  I  have  denied  the  spirit  of  your  teach- 
ing— even  as  they." 

"  Were  you  perfect,"  replied  Jesse,  "  then  would  you 
have  no  need  to  learn  of  me." 

Though  many  of  Jesse's  disciples  were  constantly  travel- 
ling about,  and  sending  their  more  earnest  inquirers  down 
to  Capronville  to  sit  at  the  feet  of  the  Master,  he  was  him- 
self very  quiet  during  the  latter  part  of  the  winter.  It 
seemed  as  if  he  were  consciously  working  in  harmony  with 
that  true  rhythm  by  which  all  things  move;  as  if  he  were 
purposely  withdrawing  himself,  like  the  waters  of  the  ocean 
at  ebb-tide,  that  when  the  hour  of  the  flood-tide  came  he 
might  dash  himself  with  renewed  vigour  and  irresistible 
power  high  up  against  the  rocky  strand  of  the  world's 
life. 

For  six  months  he  had  not  known  a  day  of  rest,  and  few 
had  been  his  hours  of  solitude;  but  he  now  secluded  him- 
self as  much  as  possible,  though  he  could  not  turn  away  the 
sufferers  in  spirit  and  in  body  who  came,  many  of  them 
from  distant  places,  to  hear  his  voice  and  to  receive  his  heal- 
ing touch.  Long  hours  he  spent  in  meditation  and  prayer 
in  the  room  which  was  held  sacred  to  him. 

"  The  builder  rests  but  a  brief  time,"  he  told  his  friends, 
"  for  he  has  yet  to  finish  the  building,  and  nail  the  flag 
upon  the  very  tower." 

His  mother,  who  heard  the  words,  knew  of  what  he 
was  thinking,  and  asked  leave  to  follow  him  to  his  room. 


378          THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL 

"When  are  you  going  down  there?  "  she  asked,  as  soon 
as  the  door  was  shut.  She  could  not  bring  herself  to  name 
the  city  of  her  dread. 

"When  the  spring  comes,  then  I  am  going." 

"  And  who  will  go  with  you  ?  " 

"You  will  all  go  with  me,  little  Mother." 

"  Even  I,  and  Mary,  and  Anna,  and  Rose,  and  John's 
mother,  too  ?  " 

"Yes,  for  the  faith  of  woman  is  a  torch  in  the  dark 
night." 

"  Jesse,  you  frighten  me! 

"Does  your  torch,  then,  flicker  in  the  wind  of  fear?" 
In  his  eyes  was  a  look  of  tenderness  past  understanding, 
but  his  tone  was  steady  and  almost  cold. 

"What  terrible  battle  are  you  going  into,  my  son?" 

"  The  battle  of  the  Spirit  and  of  truth,  against  material- 
ism and  falsehood.  But  if  there  is  quiet  in  your  soul,  the 
roar  of  the  greatest  battle  will  not  have  power  to  disturb 
you." 

"  But  you  are  my  little  child,  the  baby  I  nursed  at  my 
breast.  .  .  ."  Her  voice  shook  and  broke,  and  her 
eyes  were  wet  with  tears. 

Jesse  took  the  quivering  form  of  the  mother  in  his  arms 
and  led  her  to  a  chair. 

"  Sit  here  beside  me,  Mother.  You  love  me,  do  you  not? 
And  you  would  gladly  die  to  prove  your  love  ?  " 

"To  save  you?  Oh,  gladly  would  I  die  to  prove  my 
love  and  to  save  you !  " 

"  Then  shall  I  not  gladly  die  to  prove  my  love  to  the 
world,  and  to  save  it,  if  possible,  from  spiritual  death  ?  " 

"  Can  your  death  save  the  world  ?  " 

"  My  death  can  show  the  world  the  way  to  save  itself. 
How?  By  the  revelation  of  that  love  which  sacrifices  self. 
Man  can  be  saved  only  by  sacrifice;  because  the  soul  of 
man  is  sunk  so  deep  in  matter,  that  only  by  making  of  his 
own  life  a  rope  whereby  the  souls  of  other  men  may  climb, 
can  one  help  those  blind  and  matter-laden  souls  to  reach 
upward  to  the  light.  My  life  will  be  that  rope.  Death 
is  the  unanswerable  argument,  dear  Mother;  its  logic  sur- 
passes that  of  the  schools." 

"  And  how  shall  you  die?     In  what  inconceivable  way?  " 


THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL          379 

"What   matter?      Death    is    one,    though    the    doors   of 
death  are  many." 

After  a  little  silence  he  went  on  speaking,  as  if  to  him- 
self,  in   a  strange,   rapt  voice: 

"  To  the  souls  of  millions  now  unborn  I  shall  become 
the  very  symbol  of  sacrificial  love,  the  hope  and  promise  of 
a  passion  beyond  self;  I  shall  be  the  dream  of  those  who 
give  themselves  for  others,  the  comforter  of  all  who  suf- 
fer for  their  love.  Though  I  give  my  body  unto  death, 
my  spirit  will  endure  in  all  men's  minds  for  ever.  I  shall 
be  called  the  Lord  of  gentleness  and  pity,  and  in  my  name 
will  men  forgive  their  enemies  and  do  good  in  secret  to 
those  who  hate  them.  When  a  man  would  injure  his 
neighbour,  my  invisible  hand  shall  hold  him  back;  when  a 
woman  opens  her  lips  to  voice  an  uncharitable  thought, 
my  word  shall  persuade  her  to  silence.  They  who  would 
desecrate  the  temple  of  their  body,  remembering  me  shall 
dedicate  that  temple  to  the  service  of  the  Spirit.  The  lips 
of  little  children  will  be  taught  to  repeat  my  words,  even 
before  their  minds  are  ready  for  the  meaning;  and  the 
hearts  of  aged  mothers  who  go  down  the  slippery  path  to 
death  will  lean  on  me  in  preference  to  their  first-born. 
The  hungry  will  ask  me  for  bread.  The  lonely  will  come 
to  me  for  love.  They  who  are  misunderstood  will  remem- 
ber that  I  also  was  not  understood  by  the  world  for  which 
I  died.  They  who  labour  from  morning  until  evening 
that  they  may  have  mere  bread,  will  know  that  the  palms  of 
my  hands  were  calloused  by  years  of  contact  with  the  ham- 
mer and  the  plane,  and  that  my  hours  for  reading  and  medi- 
tation were  only  in  the  intervals  of  a  laborious  life.  I  am 
the  path  whereby  men's  feet  shall  reach  the  higher  levels  of 
true  brotherhood.  It  is  the  voice  of  Death  that  shall  pro- 
claim me  the  immortal,  immanent  guardian  of  mankind. 
And  they  who  believe  on  the  Spirit  that  is  I,  shall  also  be- 
come immortal." 

His  mother  gazed  at  him,  at  first  in  sadness;  then,  as 
the  full  grandeur  and  scope  of  his  idea  burst  on  her  vision, 
her  eyes  widened,  her  breath  was  suspended,  her  heart  al- 
most ceased  to  beat.  She  forgot,  in  the  rush  of  enlighten- 
ment, that  he  was  her  son;  she  knew  only  that  before  her 
was  a  colossal  and  god-like  man,  whose  star  would  blaze 


38o          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

for  ever  in  the  firmament  of  human  consciousness.  In  the 
light  of  this  new  revelation  the  little  spark  of  personal, 
maternal  fear  was  blotted  out,  and  her  pain  seemed  only 
a  great  red  flower  which  she  was  privileged  to  lay  upon  the 
altar  of  his  worship. 

"  O  inconceivable  one,"  she  breathed,  "  inconceivable 
one  whom  I  by  the  grace  of  God  conceived!  May  all 
things  be  as  you  say — yes,  even  to  the  death  that  shall  pur- 
chase your  immortality  in  the  consciousness  of  men  for 
ever!" 


BOOK   IV 
THE    SACRIFICE 


CHAPTER    LXI 

ON  the  morning  when  Jesse  left  Capronville  for  the 
last  time,  no  words  of  comfort  could  still  the  crying  of 
Peter's  children.  They  clung  to  his  hands,  they  held  his 
garments,  pleading  with  him  not  to  go  away  from  them. 

"  Oh,  we  shall  never  see  you  any  more !  "  they  sobbed, 
"  we  know  that  we  shall  never  see  you  any  more !  " 

Strange  intuition  of  the  pure  in  heart!  Never  before 
when  he  had  left  them  to  go  on  one  of  his  many  journeys 
had  the  children  tried  to  hold  him  back,  never  before  had 
they  doubted  that  he  would  return.  Notwithstanding  his 
declaration  to  Peter  and  the  other  men  that  his  life  had 
now  but  a  brief  course  to  run,  they  did  not  really  under- 
stand; but  the  little  ones,  to  whom  no  word  of  warning 
had  been  spoken,  knew  even  as  Jesse  knew  that  this  was  a 
last  parting. 

"  I  shall  be  with  you  always,  my  precious  ones,"  he 
promised  them,  even  as  he  had  promised  the  men  and 
women  to  be  ever  with  them  in  the  spirit;  but  the  unhappy 
children  only  wept  more  hopelessly,  still  pleading: 

"  Do  not  go  away!     Oh,  do  not  go  away!  " 

He  sat  down  in  a  large  chair  on  the  verandah  and  gath- 
ered the  five  in  his  arms,  from  the  eldest  boy  of  eleven 
years  to  the  little  girl  of  three  who  had  nestled  on  his 
breast  that  day  in  the  preceding  summer  when  the  dele- 
gation of  ministers  had  come  to  question  him. 

"  Now  if  you  will  not  cry  any  more,"  he  said,  "  I  will 
tell  you  a  beautiful  story,  one  you  are  always  to  remember." 

With  the  tears  still  hanging  on  their  eyelashes  they 
stopped  their  sobbing  to  listen. 

"  There  was  once  a  man  who  had  five  beautiful  children 
whom  he  loved  even  as  I  love  you,  my  little  ones,  and  who 
loved  him  even  as  you  love  me.  But  one  day  the  man  was 
obliged  to  leave  his  children  and  to  go  on  a  journey  into  a 
far  country,  and  the  children  wept  and  would  not  be  com- 
forted; their  eyelashes  were  heavy  with  tears,  like  those  I 

383 


384          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

now  wipe  from  the  face  of  little  Anna.  And  the  man,  who 
was  grieved  at  their  grief,  said  to  them  in  parting: 

"  '  If  I  do  not  return  before  the  little  moon,  which  you 
saw  lying  low  in  the  western  sky  last  night  like  a  curled 
silver  feather,  shall  grow  to  be  a  round  golden  ball,  then  I 
will  send  to  you  in  my  place  a  being  far  more  wonderful 
than  I,  one  bright  like  the  sunshine,  whose  step  will  be 
so  light  it  will  not  bend  the  frailest  grasses  as  he  comes 
along.  He  will  also  love  you  more  than  I,  because  he  will 
know  you  better;  no  thought  of  yours  can  be  hidden  from 
him.  When  you  wake  alone  in  the  night  and  are  afraid, 
he  will  be  there  to  comfort  you;  the  secret  griefs  that  you 
dare  not  tell  even  to  your  mother,  he  will  understand  and 
pity.  When  you  hear  a  bird  sing  in  the  early  dawn,  you 
will  think  he  is  calling  to  you;  when  the  rain  beats  against 
the  window-pane  and  the  wind  sighs  round  the  house,  you 
will  think  of  the  tears  he  must  have  shed  for  you;  and 
whenever  you  smell  the  fragrance  of  a  rose,  it  will  remind 
you  of  some  wonderful  secret  thing  which  he  is  waiting 
to  tell  you  when  you  shall  be  good  and  wise  enough  to  un- 
derstand.' 

"  And  as  the  father  told  the  children  about  the  wonder- 
ful stranger  who  was  coming,  his  heart  was  so  full 
of  love  for  them  that  his  tears  fell  on  their  faces, 
even  as  my  tears  fall  now.  Do  you  not  think,  dear 
little  ones,  that  when  the  children  knew  how  much  the 
father  wished  them  to  love  the  stranger,  they  would  watch 
for  him?" 

"  I  think,"  said  the  smallest  boy,  who  was  five,  "  I  think 
they  would  watch  most  for  their  father." 

"  And  I  think,"  said  the  eldest  boy,  "  that  the  stranger 
was  their  father;  that  he  was  going  to  be  an  angel,  and 
come  back  to  them  that  way,  for  only  an  angel  could  have 
a  step  so  light  it  would  not  bend  the  grasses  as  he  walked 
along." 

Jesse  now  rose  from  the  chair  and  kissed  the  children 
softly  in  farewell. 

"  The  less  you  cry,"  he  said,  "  the  clearer  your  eyes 
will  be  to  see  the  wonderful  stranger,  in  case  he  should 
come  to  you  also,  as  he  came  to  the  children  in  the 
story," 


THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL          385 

Then,  while  they  were  still  wondering  at  his  words,  he 
turned  and  passed  quickly  down  the  road,  followed  by  the 
men. 

Several  days  before,  Jesse  had  received  a  troubled  letter 
from  Martha  Lane,  telling  of  the  serious  illness  of  her 
brother  Lawrence,  and  urging  him  to  hasten,  if  possible, 
in  his  promised  journey  to  New  York.  "  Lawrence  con- 
stantly asks  when  you  are  coming,"  Martha  wrote.  "  If 
you  were  here,  I  am  sure  he  would  get  better." 

But  Jesse  did  not  hasten.  He  left  Capronville  on  the 
day  he  had  originally  set,  and  then,  instead  of  going  by  the 
most  direct  route  to  New  York,  he  chose  a  roundabout 
way  which  would  take  him  through  the  town  in  which  his 
old  enemy,  Thomas  Taylor,  was  held  in  an  asylum  for  the 
insane.  The  twelve  men  were  with  him;  but  the  women 
had  been  told  to  remain  in  Capronville  a  few  days  longer, 
then  to  go  directly  to  New  York,  under  the  guardianship 
of  Mary  Magnus,  and  await  a  message  from  Jesse  in  a 
place  agreed  upon  between  them. 

Early  that  afternoon  they  arrived  in  the  town  where 
Taylor  was,  and  went  to  the  asylum  which  stood  a  little 
way  outside  the  village.  Approaching  the  portal  of  that 
house  of  woe  through  an  avenue  of  calm  and  noble  elm- 
trees,  they  paused  for  a  few  minutes  midway  between  the 
wide  gate  and  the  entrance  of  the  house.  So  restful  was 
the  scene,  it  might  have  been  the  foreground  of  a  palace  of 
art  or  of  music;  and  save  for  a  shrill,  harsh  cry  which  now 
and  then  rang  out  from  somewhere  in  the  long  west  wing 
extending  from  the  main  building  to  the  road,  one  might 
have  envied  the  dwellers  in  that  well-proportioned  pile  for 
the  quiet  of  their  surroundings.  An  abode  of  peace  it 
seemed  at  the  first  view;  but  looking  closer,  one  saw 
strange  faces  behind  the  grated  windows,  some  emaciated 
and  cadaverous,  others  distorted  by  incomprehensible  wrath 
and  lighted  by  fiery  eyeballs,  others  again  of  putty-like  ap- 
pearance, so  void  were  they  of  any  gleam  of  that  spirit  of 
intelligence  which  we  call  human.  Here  and  there  a  hand 
was  thrust  forth  from  between  the  gratings  of  the  win- 
dows, a  hand  which  waved  aimlessly  at  nothing,  or  gestic- 
ulated wildly  at  some  imaginary  enemy  or  friend. 


386          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"What  a  terrible  place!  "  gasped  John.  "  But,  Master, 
what  really  is  insanity  ?  " 

"  The  escape  of  the  mind  from  the  guidance  of  the  soul. 
Sometimes  it  comes  about  through  a  revolt  of  the  mind 
against  that  guidance;  for  the  soul  of  a  man  should  control 
even  his  own  wandering  thoughts.  Only  that  man  whose 
soul  is  master  of  the  mind  as  well  as  of  the  body  can  be 
said  to  be  entirely  sane.  The  mind  of  our  ordinary  con- 
sciousness is  the  path  between  the  Spirit  and  matter,  and 
that  path  should  be  kept  clear  and  clean.  It  is  of  no  avail 
to  drive  the  herd  of  passions  from  the  pastures  of  the  body, 
if  we  give  them  leave  to  make  a  stable  of  the  mind.  Then, 
again,  much  insanity  is  caused  by  the  mind  arrogating  to 
itself  the  use  of  psychic  powers  of  which  it  has  not  taken 
the  trouble  to  gain  knowledge;  such  a  mind  loses  the  power 
to  co-ordinate  with  the  normal  physical  consciousness." 

They  passed  on  to  the  office  of  the  institution.  Jesse 
went  in,  ahead  of  his  companions,  and  announced  his 
name  to  the  young  physician  in  charge.  The  effect  was 
electrical.  The  young  man  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  Your  name  is  well-known  here,"  he  said.  "  Not  only 
has  your  fame  reached  us;  but  one  of  my  patients,  Thomas 
Taylor,  of  Nashburgh,  speaks  constantly  of  you." 

"  It  is  he  whom  I  wish  to  see,"  Jesse  replied. 

The  doctor  hesitated. 

"Taylor  is  rather  low  at  present.  He  was  extremely 
violent  for  a  long  time.  He  has  an  iron  constitution,  or 
he  would  have  worn  himself  out  long  ago.  Of  late  he  has 
been  in  a  semi-stupor.  I  wonder  how  the  sight  of  you 
would  affect  him." 

"  You  may  have  heard,"  said  Jesse,  simply,  "  that  the 
sight  of  me  has  proved  beneficial  to  a  great  number  of  per- 
sons." 

The  eyes  of  the  young  doctor  were  aflame  with  interest, 
both  personal  and  scientific. 

"  Of  course  you  shall  see  Taylor,"  he  said.  "  I  will  go 
up  with  you  myself."  They  went  out  into  the  wide  hall, 
where  the  other  men  were  waiting.  "  Do  you  wish  any  of 
your  friends  to  accompany  us  ?  " 

Jesse  motioned  to   Peter,  James  and  John. 

"Can  I  not  go?"  asked  Marty  White. 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          387 

"Do  you  know  Taylor?"  the  doctor  questioned. 
"  I  have  always  known  him." 
"  Then  you  had  better  remain  here." 
Taylor  was  lying  in  his  bed,  propped  high  with  pillows, 
in  a  little  room  which  opened  off  a  long  corridor.     The 
man  who  had  been  so  large  and  strong  was  now  pathetically 
shrunken,  the  formerly  bronze-like  face  was  the  colour  of 
old  ivory,  and  the  knotted  hands  which  lay  on  the  cover- 
let were  limp  and  nerveless. 

"  Taylor,"  said  the  cheery  voice  of  the  doctor,  who 
stood  behind  Jesse  in  the  doorway,  "  I  have  brought  a 
friend  to  see  you." 

"  I  have  no  friends."  He  did  not  even  open  his  eyes. 
Jesse  passed  into  the  room  and  stood  beside  the  narrow 
bed.  Without  speaking  a  word,  he  touched  one  of  the 
shrunken,  nerveless  hands  of  the  invalid.  Quickly  Tay- 
lor opened  his  eyes,  as  if  a  shock  of  electricity  had  passed 
through  his  body.  With  suspended  breath  he  gazed  at  the 
vision  before  him.  A  ray  of  sunshine  from  the  unshaded 
window  fell  on  the  golden  head  of  the  visitor  and  gave  to 
his  face  a  look  of  unearthly  radiance. 

"  Are  you  the  angel  of  death?"  The  voice  was  hoarse, 
but  there  was  a  tone  of  surprise  and  gladness  in  it. 

"  I  am  the  messenger  of  life  and  of  love."  Jesse  clasped 
the  hand  of  his  old  enemy  in  both  his  own,  and  bent  ten- 
derly above  him.  "  I  have  come  to  make  you  well  and 
happy.  Do  you  not  know  me  ?  " 

"  You  look  like  Jesse  Bethel.  How  strange !  Why,  I 
used  to  hate  you !  " 

"  That  was  because  you  did  not  really  know  me.  To 
know  anyone  really  is  to  love  him." 

"  I  had  a  strange  dream  about  you  last  night,  Jesse." 
The  doctor  stood  listening  in  the  doorway,  his  eyes  wide 
with  astonishment.  This  was  the  first  time  Taylor  had 
spoken  rationally  in  all  the  months  he  had  been  under 
his  care.  But  the  sick  man  took  no  notice  of  the  specta- 
tors. 

"  Yes,"  he  went  on,  "  I  dreamed  that  my  old  ugly  dog 
came  tearing  at  my  throat,  and  that  you  took  him  away. 
And  the  dog  licked  your  face,  as  he  did  that  day  in  Nash- 
burgh.  Why  did  the  dog  lick  your  face,  Jesse?" 


388          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"  Because  I  pitied  him  and  loved  him." 

"  Do  you  pity  and  love  everything  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"Even  me?" 

"You  more  than  most." 

"But   why?" 

"  Because  I  feel  that  you  need  it  most." 

The  eyes  of  Thomas  Taylor  filled  with  tears.  It  was 
the  first  time  anyone  had  ever  seen  those  eyes  suffused  with 
the  moisture  of  emotion. 

"Why  did  you  come  to  see  me  to-day,  Jesse?  " 

"  Because  I  felt  that  you  had  need  of  me." 

"  Do  you  know  that  I  am  going  to  die?  " 

Jesse  turned  to  the  watching  doctor  and  motioned  to 
him  to  close  the  door. 

"  Let  me  sit  down  beside  you,"  he  said  to  Taylor,  when 
they  were  alone;  and  Taylor  moved  his  wasted  form  a 
little  further  back  upon  the  bed. 

"  Do  you  know  that  I  am  going  to  die,  Jesse?"  he  re- 
peated. 

"  Yes.  And  I  also  am  going  to  die  in  a  little  while. 
We  who  both  stand  so  near  to  the  wharf  of  death  should 
wish  each  other  a  calm  passage." 

"Do  the  dead  rest  well,  I  wonder?"  Taylor's  weary 
eyes  were  fixed  on  Jesse's  face.  "  I  am  so  tired,  I  shall 
be  glad  to  rest.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  have  hardly  slept 
for  months  until  last  night,  and  then  I  dreamed  of  you. 
Do  you  think  the  dead  rest  well  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  will  rest  well.  Do  you  want  to  go  to 
sleep  now  for  a  little  while?  " 

"Oh,  if  I  only  could!" 

"You  shall,  dear  brother.  Close  your  eyes,  and  when 
you  wake  you  shall  see  my  face  in  another  dream." 

He  laid  his  fingers  on  the  fluttering  eyelids,  and  they 
were  quiet.  With  a  sigh  of  contentment  the  man  who  had 
been  mad  so  long  passed  into  the  peaceful  sleep  of  perfect 
sanity.  Jesse  sat  looking  at  him  for  a  few  moments,  then 
arose  and  joined  the  doctor  and  the  three  other  men  in  the 
corridor. 

"  Well  ?  "     The  doctor  gazed  anxiously  at  Jesse. 

"  Your  patient  is  asleep." 


THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL          389 

"  Why,  this  is  extraordinary !  The  man  has  slept  only 
under  the  influence  of  drugs  since  he  has  been  here.  What 
have  you  done  to  him,  if  I  may  ask?  " 

"  Given  him  peace." 

"  You  are  certainly  a  most  unusual  man !  Do  you  think 
my  patient  will  recover  ?  " 

"  No,  he  will  die  to-night." 

"And  even  you  cannot  prevent  it?" 

"  I  would  not  if  I  could." 

"  Yet  rumour  says  that  you  have  brought  men  back  from 
the  very  clutch  of  death." 

"  Not  one  who  had  so  great  a  need  of  death." 

"  Could  you — in  the  interest  of  science  ?  "  The  face 
of  the  young  physician  was  alight  with  enthusiasm. 

"  But  I  have  no  interest  in  science,"  Jesse  answered, 
with  a  gentle  smile,  "  except  where  science  can  serve  the 
spirit  of  man." 

Then  he  sent  for  his  other  companions  who  were  wait- 
ing below,  and  together  they  went  over  the  great  building, 
through  the  halls  of  the  men  and  the  halls  of  the  women. 
To  all  those  tortured  souls  the  presence  of  Jesse  brought 
a  sense  of  peace,  and  to  many  of  them  a  word  from  him  or 
a  touch  of  his  hand  marked  the  turning-point  for  their  re- 
covery. 

That  night  Thomas  Taylor  died,  as  peacefully  as  he  had 
fallen  asleep  in  the  afternoon.  His  last  words  were,  "  Tell 
Jesse  that  I  shall  be  watching  for  him  when  I  awake." 

The  nurse  who  sat  beside  the  bed  did  not  understand. 
He  thought  the  mind  of  the  dying  man  was  wandering. 


CHAPTER    LXII 

AFTER  leaving  the  asylum  Jesse  and  his  companions  went 
to  Albany,  where  they  remained  nearly  two  days.  That 
was  the  largest  place  in  which  he  had  preached,  so  far;  and 
one  of  his  reasons  for  stopping  there  was  that  the  men  who 
were  with  him,  shy  and  awkward  from  a  lifetime  passed 
among  the  little  farms  and  villages  of  Vermont,  might 
gradually  become  accustomed  to  the  ways  of  city  life,  be- 
fore he  plunged  them  into  the  great  metropolis,  where  their 
faith  and  courage  would  be  tried  so  sorely,  where  they 
would  be  as  children  set  to  accomplish  tasks  beyond  their 
power.  John  and  Judson  were  the  only  ones  among  the 
twelve  who  had  ever  spent  more  than  a  few  days  in  New 
York  city,  and  most  of  them  had  never  been  outside  their 
native  State. 

Arriving  in  Albany  that  evening,  Jesse  sent  announce- 
ments to  the  newspapers  that  he  would  speak  in  a  public 
square  at  twelve  o'clock  the  following  day.  The  neces- 
sary arrangements  were  made  by  Judson  Carey,  whose 
wandering,  unhappy  life  had  included  more  than  one  so- 
journ in  this  very  city.  In  one  of  the  newspaper  offices 
he  met  an  old  acquaintance. 

"Why,  what  are  you  doing  here?"  the  man  asked,  in 
surprise. 

Judson  stated  his  business  in  Albany  and  in  the  office  of 
the  newspaper. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  are  travelling  about  with  a 
religious  prophet?  Well,  that's  a  good  joke!  Do  you  get 
well  paid?" 

"  I  am  his  disciple.     There  are  twelve  of  us." 

"Humph ! "  The  man,  who  was  rather  sceptical  in  mat- 
ters of  religion,  and  whose  own  hard  life  had  made  him 
doubtful  of  the  purity  of  human  motives,  first  stared  at 
Judson,  then  laughed  outright.  "  Do  you  mean  that  you 
are  doing  it  for  pleasure?" 

"  I    believe    in    him,"    Judson    answered,    simply.      "  So 


THE    SON    OF    MARY   BETHEL          391 

would  you,  if  you  had  seen  him  do  the  things  I've  seen 
him  do." 

"For  example?"  The  man  looked  interested. 

"Well,  I've  seen  him  cure  almost  every  disease  by  one 
touch  of  his  hand,  and  even  raise  the  dying.  Four  of  my 
friends  once  saw  him  still  a  hurricane,  simply  by  calling  to 
it :  I  wasn't  there  myself.  He  can  read  the  thought  in 
your  mind  and  the  writing  in  your  pocket." 

"  Sounds  like  a  fortune-teller,"  said  the  man.  "  That's 
what  they  claim  to  do." 

"  Can  a  fortune-teller  raise  the  dead  ?  " 

"  Some  of  the  quack  doctors  pretend  to." 

"  Suppose  you  come  and  hear  him  preach  to-morrow,  and 
then  tell  me  if  you  ever  knew  anyone  who  could  speak  as 
this  man  speaks." 

"  Do  you  pass  the  hat  at  your  open  air  meetings?  "  he 
asked. 

"  Never." 

"But  who  pays  for  all  this?     Who's  your  cashier?" 

"  I  carry  the  money,  usually." 

"  But  where  does  it  come  from  ?  " 

"  Our  wants  are  simple." 

"  If  I  remember  rightly,  yours  weren't  so  simple  in  the 
days  when  we  knew  each  other." 

Judson  winced,  and  his  face  flushed.  "  Those  days  are 
over,"  he  said. 

"  Then  you  are  much  changed,"  the  man  observed. 

"  The  whole  world  will  be  changed,"  declared  the  dis- 
ciple. "  Our  Master  is  the  prophet  of  a  spiritual  revolu- 
tion." 

"  Revolutions  are  either  very  dangerous  or  very  profit- 
able— for  those  who  bring  them  about.  I've  gone  into 
politics  myself,  in  a  small  way,  since  last  we  met;  and  if 
your  master,  as  you  call  him,  doesn't  pass  the  hat,  then  he's 
looking  for  something  bigger.  It's  always  the  way.  Bet- 
ter feather  your  nest  before  the  thing  fails;  for  it's  sure  to 
fail,  if  the  man  is  even  half-way  honest.  Honest  reform- 
ers always  fail."  And  the  man  who  had  gone  into  politics 
in  a  small  way  bade  the  disciple  good-night. 

Judson  walked  back  to  the  obscure  hotel  where  they  had 
obtained  lodgings,  much  disturbed  in  mind  by  his  chance 


392          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

encounter  with  an  old  acquaintance.  The  most  faithful 
of  Jesse's  friends  was  not  so  sensitive  regarding  the  fame 
and  dignity  of  the  Master  as  this  man  was.  Great  love 
and  faith  are  so  sure  of  the  loveliness  of  their  object  that 
the  praise  or  blame  of  others  affects  them  little.  Judson's 
feelings  were  not  of  that  simple  order.  Nor  had  he  ever 
pondered  the  saying  of  the  sage  Lao-tsze :  "  Those  who 
come  up  to  the  vulgar  standard  have  existed  for  a  long 
time  as  small  men." 

The  square  was  packed  at  the  hour  of  Jesse's  sermon  the 
following  day.  He  had  two  ends  in  view  in  causing  those 
notices  to  be  inserted  in  the  newspapers,  besides  the  obvious 
one  of  gathering  a  crowd  to  listen  to  his  words.  In  the 
first  place,  he  wished  to  test  for  himself  how  far  his  fame 
had  spread  beyond  the  region  of  his  early  preaching;  and 
in  the  second  place,  he  wished  the  news  of  his  coming 
journey  to  New  York  to  reach  that  city  before  him.  Sev- 
eral times  during  the  preceding  fall  and  winter  he  had  been 
visited  by  representatives  of  the  metropolitan  press,  and 
more  than  one  account  of  him,  and  of  his  cures  and  teach- 
ings, had  been  published  in  the  large  newspapers.  The 
great  prophet  always  adjusts  himself  in  some  degree  to  his 
environment;  otherwise  he  would  perish  as  a  small  prophet, 
and  his  life  and  labour  make  no  material  change  in  that 
environment,  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  come  after 
him.  In  the  dawn  of  the  twentieth  century,  no  man  could 
move  the  world  a  fraction  of  an  inch  without  the  aid  of 
the  newspapers.  And  Alexander,  had  he  lived  in  our  day, 
would  have  gone  to  the  conquest  of  Asia  with  machine 
guns  instead  of  spears  and  pikes. 

The  morning  after  his  sermon  in  the  square,  every  im- 
portant paper  in  Albany  had  a  long  account  of  Jesse 
B«thel.  One  printed  a  full  stenographic  report  of  his 
words,  and  several  gave  much  space  to  the  extraordinary 
cures  he  had  performed,  under  the  very  eyes  of  the  re- 
porters. Scores  of  persons  had  come  during  the  afternoon 
and  evening  to  the  small  hotel  where  they  were  staying, 
and  the  next  morning  they  came  by  hundreds,  after  reading 
the  newspapers. 

But  though  he  was  besought  to  remain  in  Albany  even 
one  day  longer,  he  could  not  remain.  Invisible  threads 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          393 

were  drawing  him  to  the  little  house  beyond  the  Palisades, 
where  his  friend  Lawrence  Lane  was  in  danger  of  a  fate 
more  dreadful  than  the  inevitable  end  that  comes  to  all 
mankind.  Jesse  sent  a  telegram  to  Martha,  stating  the 
hour  when  he  would  come ;  and  late  in  the  afternoon  he  and 
his  companions  took  a  train  for  New  York  City.  It  was 
plain  to  the  twelve  men  that  their  master  was  much  trou- 
bled ;  never  before  had  they  seen  him  so  restless  and  pre- 
occupied. Many  persons  gathered  around  him  on  the 
train;  but  though  he  answered  all  their  questions,  those 
who  loved  him  knew  that  his  thoughts  were  elsewhere. 


CHAPTER  LXIII 

THEY  left  the  train  at  One  Hundred  and  Twenty-fifth 
Street  and  went  across-town  to  the  Fort  Lee  Ferry.  On 
the  New  Jersey  side  they  were  met  by  Martha  Lane.  Her 
face  was  pale,  her  eyes  red  as  from  long  weeping. 

"Oh,  Master!"  she  cried,  clinging  to  Jesse's  hand. 
"  My  brother  is  dead." 

The  twelve  men  knew  how  dearly  Jesse  had  loved  this 
man,  and  their  eyes  were  wet  with  sympathy. 

"  If  you  had  been  here,"  said  the  weeping  Martha,  "  I 
know  he  would  not  have  died." 

"  No  man  is  so  fully  alive,"  he  said,  "  as  the  dead  that 
live  again." 

They  did  not  understand  him,  for  they  thought  he  was 
speaking  of  those  who  live  in  the  Spirit. 

They  took  the  car  which  climbed  the  steep  hill,  and 
Martha  clung  to  Jesse's  hand  all  of  the  short  way  home, 
as  if  she  still  cherished  in  her  heart  some  vague  and  name- 
less hope;  as  if  in  the  coming  of  this  friend  there  lay  some 
possibility  of  comfort,  beyond  the  bounds  of  reason. 

To  Jesse's  companions  that  short,  steep  ride  from  the 
ferry-house  to  the  home  of  the  Lanes  was  more  wearisome 
than  the  journey  down  from  Albany.  The  feeling  that  de- 
pressed them  was  something  more  than  the  natural  sadness 
of  those  about  to  enter  a  house  of  mourning,  something 
more  than  the  feeling  of  nearness  to  a  strange  and  unfriendly 
city  which  may  so  affect  the  imagination  of  sensitive  souls. 
The  death  of  Jesse's  friend  seemed  like  an  evil  omen. 
When  they  had  first  seen  Martha  approaching  they  had 
shrunk  back,  repelled  by  a  sudden  dread  of  some  unname- 
able  menace  that  lay  just  behind  her.  Could  there  be  any- 
thing in  Jesse's  warning,  more  than  once  repeated,  that  the 
shadow  of  death  lay  over  this  journey? 

Arrived  at  the  house,  a  wooden  structure  of  medium  size 
some  distance  back  from  the  Palisades,  Martha  left  them 
in  the  large  sitting-room  and  went  to  call  her  sister.  There 

394 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          395 

were  present  several  persons,  men  and  women,  whom 
Martha  had  made  known  to  the  strangers. 

"  The  brother  has  been  dead  some  days,"  said  a  white- 
bearded  old  man  to  Jesse,  when  Martha  had  left  the  room; 
"  but  neither  of  the  girls  would  hear  a  word  of  his  bur- 
ial until  you  should  come." 

"  All  will  be  well,"  Jesse  answered  simply.  Then  after 
a  moment  he  added,  as  if  to  himself: 

"  To  leave  undone  that  which  should  be  done,  is  no 
less  evil  than  to  do  that  which  should  not  be  done." 

They  thought  he  was  questioning  the  wisdom  of  leaving 
the  dead  unburied,  but  such  was  not  his  meaning.  In  his 
mind  was  the  conviction  that  Lawrence  had  not  bidden  an 
eternal  nor  a  willing  farewell  to  the  sunlight,  and  he  was 
living  over  in  memory  that  scene  of  seven  years  before,  in 
the  little  home  near  Washington  Square,  when  his  friend's 
hold  upon  the  world  had  seemed  so  near  to  slipping.  He 
was  also  thinking  of  that  other  scene,  two  days  before, 
when  he  had  refused  to  detain  the  world-tired  spirit  of 
Thomas  Taylor  even  an  hour  from  the  rest  it  craved. 
Surely  his  course  was  plain;  but  would  the  task  be  easy 
as  before?  He  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  seeking  in 
spirit  the  spirit  of  his  friend. 

A  sudden,  half-stifled  cry  at  the  door  of  the  room  caused 
him  to  look  up.  It  was  Mary,  the  younger  sister. 

"  Oh,  Master !  "  she  cried,  sinking  on  her  knees  besides 
his  chair  and  clinging  to  his  hands.  "  If  you  had  been 
here,  I  know  he  would  not  have  died." 

The  very  words  which  Martha  had  spoken!  Surely 
the  faith  of  both  would  help  him,  if  such  help  were  needed. 
Was  this  an  opportunity  made  by  the  Spirit  itself,  to  prove 
the  power  of  the  Spirit?  He  knew  that  Lawrence  was 
well-known  in  the  neighbourhood ;  that  he  held  a  local  of- 
fice of  some  prominence ;  that  even  the  funeral  rites  had 
been  performed  above  him,  though  his  sisters  had  forbidden 
the  burial.  Here  on  the  outskirts  of  the  great  sceptical 
city  could  he  perform  a  work  which  should  challenge  the 
attention  of  every  man? 

"Would  you  not  like  to  come  and  see  him?"  asked 
Mary  timidly,  raising  her  bowed  head  and  looking  into 
Jesse's  face. 


396          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"  In  a  little  while,"  he  answered,  "  not  yet." 

The  work  which  he  hoped  to  do  must  be  well  attested, 
by  witnesses  of  whose  impartial  judgment  there  could  be 
no  question.  He  turned  suddenly  to  Martha. 

"Where  is  the  physician  who  attended  your  brother?" 

She  pointed  to  a  neighbouring  house,  whose  roof  was 
visible  through  the  trees. 

"  Please  send  for  him,"  said  Jesse. 

After  a  few  minutes  a  bespectacled,  black-bearded  young 
man  of  some  thirty  years  of  age  came  into  the  room  and 
was  presented  to  Jesse. 

"  I  am  glad  I  happened  to  be  at  home,"  he  said,  with 
more  briskness  than  is  customary  in  a  house  of  death.  His 
was  the  professional  manner  with  which  a  doctor  cheers  a 
living  patient,  rather  than  the  more  subdued  demeanour  be- 
fitting the  acknowledgement  of  professional  defeat  in  the 
presence  of  a  dead  one. 

"  I  suppose  you  wish  to  know  some  details  regarding 
your  friend's  illness,"  the  doctor  went  on.  Though  his 
manner  was  an  opaque  glass  behind  which  his  soul  was 
hidden,  it  was  plain  that  he  was  surprised,  and  even  some- 
what awed,  by  the  tremendous  personal  power  of  the  man 
before  him. 

"  No,"  was  Jesse's  quiet  answer.  "  I  wished  your  pres- 
ence for  another  reason.  Will  you  come  with  me  to  where 
he  lies?" 

"  Certainly.  And  now  that  you  are  here,  there  is  no 
reason  for  further  delaying  the  burial.  I  have  made  almost 
every  test  known  to  science  to  prove  to  these  young  ladies 
the  fact  which  needed  no  such  proof.  Perhaps  you  can 
convince  them." 

"  Let  us  go  to  him,"  said  Jesse,  and  motioned  the  others 
to  follow. 

Martha  led  the  way  into  the  darkened  parlour  across 
the  hall.  Besides  Jesse,  there  were  twenty-one  persons 
standing  in  the  room.  In  the  centre  of  the  floor  was  the 
open  coffin,  half-covered  with  flowers  whose  heavy  fragrance 
made  the  atmosphere  oppressive. 

"  Please  open  the  blinds  and  the  windows,"  Jesse  said 
in  a  low  tone  to  John,  and  the  full  rush  of  oxygen  and 
sunlight  seemed  to  fill  the  room  with  life. 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          397 

Against  the  white  pillow  in  the  coffin  the  face  of  Law- 
rence seemed  moulded  out  of  wax,  and  he  was  fixed  in 
that  unbending  dignity  by  which  the  dead  mutely  com- 
mand the  reverence  of  the  living.  The  fresh  breeze  blow- 
ing through  the  open  window  lightly  stirred  the  dark  hair 
above  his  temples,  and  those  who  saw  it  shivered  at  the 
motion  of  those  passive  locks.  The  two  sisters  wept  un- 
restrained, and  the  sympathetic  neighbours  wiped  their  eyes. 

Jesse  was  shaken  with  emotion.  He  had  truly  loved  this 
friend;  but  deeper  than  any  personal  grief  that  could  ever 
come  to  him  was  his  overwhelming  consciousness  of  the 
universal,  inexorable  fact  of  human  sorrow.  At  that  very 
moment,  in  ten  thousand  homes  the  wide  world  over,  he 
knew  that  mourners  hung  above  their  dead  and  dying, 
helpless  before  the  law  which  declares  that  all  who  live 
must  die,  that  every  love  must  be  baptised  in  grief,  that 
every  tie  must  be  some  day  severed.  None  could  escape 
the  all-embracing  horror.  No  home  could  be  so  closely 
guarded  but  that  the  silently-gliding  and  unwelcome  vis- 
itor drew  daily  nearer,  waiting  the  inevitable  hour  to  enter 
and  claim  his  own.  He  saw  Death  standing  at  the  elbow 
of  the  tender  mother,  as  she  bent  ecstatically  above  the 
cradle  of  her  child ;  he  saw  Death  watching  beside  the  altar- 
rail  and  following  home  the  new-made  bride;  he  saw  Death 
walking  familiarly  beside  the  aged,  whose  children  clung 
to  them  with  questioning  eyes  and  lips  that  dared  not 
speak  the  fear  within ;  he  saw  the  same  shadowy  presence 
threatening  every  unfinished  labour  of  the  brain,  or  hand, 
or  heart  of  man.  The  tears  of  all  the  world  were  burning 
in  his  eyes,  the  sorrow  of  all  mankind  was  a  weight  un- 
bearable upon  his  breast. 

But  nearer — nearer  and  darker — was  the  real  and  in- 
exorable grief  that  waited  now  behind  the  curtain  of  the 
days  for  those  who  so  loved  him.  And  though  his  heart 
was  breaking  with  pity  for  all  they  would  have  to  suffer, 
he  must  not  falter  on  the  stony  road  which  waiting  Death 
now  pointed  out  for  his  own  feet  to  travel.  This  was  the 
price  he  could  not  pay  for  them,  the  pain  he  could  not 
bear  for  them,  however  vast  his  love. 

This  was  why  Jesse  wept  as  he  stood  beside  the  coffin 
of  his  friend. 


398          THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL 

"  How  much  he  must  have  loved  him ! "  said  the 
sympathising  neighbours  to  one  another. 

Then  a  change  came  over  Jesse.  His  tears  no  longer 
flowed,  the  shadow  of  grief  passed  from  him,  and  the  light 
of  a  great  purpose  shone  in  his  face.  He  touched  the 
bowed  heads  of  the  weeping  sisters,  and  they  were  quiet, 
looking  up  at  him  with  wide  and  questioning  eyes.  Gently 
he  spoke  to  them. 

"  All  that  we  receive  from  the  Spirit  we  must  yield  to 
the  Spirit  again — even  the  gift  of  life." 

Then  he  turned  to  the  men  who  followed  him. 

"  When  you  listen  to  the  truth,  listen  with  the  inner 
ears  as  well  as  with  the  outer.  Truth  is  one,  but  the  ways 
of  hearing  truth  are  many." 

They  wondered  what  strange  thing  was  about  to  happen, 
which  he  wished  them  to  interpret  by  the  light  of  inner 
knowledge.  He  turned  again  to  the  two  young  women. 

"  Would  you  be  willing  to  endure  this  grief,  would  you 
be  willing  to  give  your  brother  to  Death,  if  you  felt  that 
by  this  sacrifice  of  your  own  personal  love  the  presence  of 
the  Spirit  might  be  quickened  ever  so  little  in  the  souls 
of  men?" 

It  was  a  question  which  would  shake  the  heart  of  any 
mourner,  at  which  the  devotee  of  any  faith  might  tremble, — 
the  question  which  every  pledged  soul  must  put  to  itself 
over  and  over  again,  as  one  by  one  the  dearest  hopes  of 
self  are  relinquished,  and  the  lonely  pilgrim  painfully 
climbs  toward  mastership. 

Would  they  be  willing?  After  a  pause  of  breathless 
thought,  Mary  answered: 

"  We  would  give  our  brother  to  the  Spirit  and  to  you, 
Master."  And  Martha  bowed  her  head  in  sign  of  acquies- 
cence. 

"  That  is  well,"  Jesse  answered.  "  Not  until  you  have 
sacrificed  a  thing  can  you  really  possess  it,  for  then  only 
can  you  learn  the  lesson  it  holds  for  you. 

"  But  it  may  be,"  he  went  on,  his  voice  rising  on  the 
wings  of  feeling,  "  it  may  be  that  your  brother's  life  will 
serve  the  purpose  of  the  Spirit  better  than  his  death  could 
serve  it." 

The  eyes  of  the  listening  doctor  opened  wide.     He  had 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          399 

heard  strange  stories  from  the  members  of  the  Lane  family 
relative  to  the  doings  of  this  young  enthusiast  from  the 
North,  incredible  stories  which  lessened  his  respect  for  the 
intelligence  of  those  who  could  repeat  them  as  facts.  Of 
what  folly  was  he  now  to  be  a  witness?  He  heard  Jesse 
say  to  the  two  sisters  of  Lawrence: 

"  Do  you  not  believe  that  the  Spirit  is  all-powerful? 
Do  you  not  believe  that  I  am  the  instrument  and  demon- 
strator of  that  power  ?  " 

"We  believe." 

"  Of  my  own  will  I  could  not  do  this  thing ;  but  if  the 
Spirit  that  is  in  me  shall  declare  itself,  even  this  work  may 
be  accomplished."  He  then  turned  to  one  of  the  men  who 
stood  near,  and  asked  him  to  unscrew  the  lid  of  the  coffin 
which  covered  the  lower  part  of  Lawrence's  body. 

"What  madness  is  this?"  cried  the  doctor. 

Jesse  looked  at  him  with  calm  eyes  whose  power  might 
have  commanded  a  much  stronger  opponent  to  be  silent. 
He  said: 

"  Even  though  my  madness  should  prove  as  inefficient  as 
your  science,  no  harm  can  now  be  done  by  me  to  him  who 
lies  here." 

The  lid  of  the  coffin  was  removed.  The  watchfcrs  held 
their  breath.  Jesse  leaned  over  the  motionless  figure  and 
touched  the  cold  brow  at  a  point  a  little  above  and  be- 
tween the  eyes. 

"  Lawrence !  "  he  cried,  in  a  tone  that  was  a  command. 

The  cold  sweat  stood  on  the  forehead  of  every  person 
in  the  room.  Even  the  doctor  felt  the  unreasoning  dread 
of  the  supernatural  running  like  icy  fingers  up  and  down 
his  spine. 

"  Lawrence !  " 

Was  it  the  flickering  of  the  sunlight  over  that  ivory- 
like  face?  or  did  the  eyelids  really  quiver,  the  set  lips 
relax?  In  the  room  there  was  no  sound,  not  even  a  breath 
was  drawn,  and  every  palm  was  cut  by  the  nails  clenched 
into  them. 

"Lawrence!"  For  the  third  time  the  bell-like  voice 
rang  out. 

"  He  lives!     Oh,  he  lives!  "  cried  Martha. 

Two  dark  and  preternaturally  brilliant  eyes  were  shining 


400          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

up  at  them  from  the  white  face  in  the  coffin.  The  lips 
were  shaping  themselves  for  speech. 

"Jesse!     Is  it  you?" 

"  It  is  I — Jesse.  You  have  had  a  long  sleep,  dear  Law- 
rence. Let  me  help  you  out  of  your  bed." 

No  one  dared  to  move,  while  Jesse  gathered  the  slight 
figure  of  Lawrence  in  his  arms  and  lifted  him  to  his  feet. 
Across  the  hall  to  the  family  sitting-room  he  led  the  dazed 
and  unresisting  man,  and  placed  him  in  a  chair. 

"  Bring  him  warm  food  and  drink,"  he  said  to  Martha 
in  an  undertone,  as  he  motioned  the  others  back.  Then 
he  closed  the  door  of  the  room,  and  he  and  Lawrence  were 
alone. 


CHAPTER  LXIV 

"  A  MOST  extraordinary  case  of  catalepsy !  A  most  ex- 
traordinary case!  "  declared  the  doctor  half  an  hour  later, 
when,  after  a  private  talk  with  Lawrence,  Jesse  opened 
the  door  of  the  sitting-room  to  the  neighbours  and  to  his 
own  friends. 

"  I  shall  read  a  paper  on  the  case  before  the  Medical 
Society,"  the  doctor  went  on,  "  and  afterward  publish  it." 

"  What  matter  by  what  name  you  designate  his  sleep  ?  " 
was  Jesse's  answer.  "  What  matter  by  what  learned  terms 
you  designate  the  power  by  which  I  awakened  him?  It  is 
enough  that  he  whom  you  would  have  buried  has  been 
raised  to  life  by  me.  You  can  at  least  vouch  for  the  facts." 

"  Which  I  shall  do,  giving  you  all  honour." 

"  I  desire  no  honours  for  myself.  I  am  only  the  servant 
and  mouthpiece  of  the  Spirit." 

But  the  language  of  religious  enthusiasm  was  unintelligi- 
ble to  the  man  of  science.  It  was  a  pity,  according  to  his 
reasoning,  that  a  man  who  indisputably  possessed  the  rarest 
natural  gifts  should  disqualify  himself  before  the  bar  of 
science  by  talking  about  the  Spirit.  Now  if  Jesse  had 
spoken  of  God-given  powers,  the  well-worn  phrase,  divested 
of  all  meaning  by  centuries  of  repetition,  would  have  fallen 
inoffensively  upon  the  doctor's  ears;  but  this  talk  about  the 
Spirit  was  a  challenge  to  his  intellect. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  the  Spirit  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  You  may  think  of  it  as  the  eternal  Flame,  of  which  our 
lives  are  sparks;  you  may  think  of  it  as  the  Father, 
whose  innumerable  children  are  mankind;  you  may  think 
of  it  as  the  immaterial  Reality,  of  which  the  material  uni- 
verse and  men  are  shadows.  However  viewed,  it  is  one 
and  the  same,  though  its  reflections  are  endless." 

"  Do  you  explain  it  thus  to  your  devotees?  " 

"  They  feel  it  and  love  it.  Love  does  not  demand  ex- 
planations. Too  much  explaining  but  confuses  love." 

Jesse  now  left  the  room  for  a  few  minutes  of  tranquil 

401 


402          THE    SON   OF   MARY  .BETHEL 

thought.  He  had  already  requested  the  doctor  and  the 
other  neighbours  not  to  worry  Lawrence  with  futile  ques- 
tions. The  strangely  resurrected  man  sat  quietly  in  the 
midst  of  them,  with  a  hand  clasped  between  the  palms  of 
each  of  his  sisters,  who  sat  on  hassocks  at  his  feet  and 
gazed  at  him  with  eyes  which  seemed  insatiable  with  the 
vision  of  his  living  face. 

One  by  one  the  neighbours  slipped  away,  to  carry  about 
the  town  the  incredible  news  that  Lawrence  Lane,  whose 
body  had  been  given  to  the  coffin  and  his  soul  to  God,  now 
lived  and  breathed  and  spoke,  now  ate  and  drank,  and 
had  even  been  heard  to  laugh! 

Raised  from  the  dead  by  Jesse  Bethel,  the  young  preacher 
who  called  himself  the  mouthpiece  of  the  Spirit — so  the 
story  flew  from  lip  to  lip.  Who  was  Jesse  Bethel?  Why, 
the  man  who  had  caused  such  a  stir  through  New  England, 
curing  all  manner  of  diseases  by  the  touch  of  his  hands, 
and  preaching  a  new  religion.  What  religion?  Why, 
the  religion  of  spirit  over  matter.  What  did  that  mean? 
Something  about  the  invisible  being  more  real  than  the 
visible.  What  did  he  look  like,  this  young  prophet?  Oh! 
he  was  a  man  all  gold  and  rose-colour  and  white,  as  gentle 
as  a  woman  and  more  powerful  than  a  hundred  men.  And 
he  had  raised  Lawrence  Lane  from  his  coffin?  Yes,  just 
called  his  name  three  times,  in  an  indescribable  voice,  and 
the  dead  man  had  opened  his  eyes  and  spoken.  What  else 
was  this  remarkable  man  going  to  do,  now  that  he  was 
here?  Oh!  destroy  materialism,  preach  a  spiritual  democ- 
racy, revolutionise  the  world.  How  was  he  going  to  do 
it?  Nobody  knew;  but  the  men  who  travelled  with  him, 
twelve  sturdy  countrymen,  thought  that  he  was  God  him- 
self— or,  rather,  the  incarnation  of  the  Spirit  he  talked 
about — anyway,  something  more  than  merely  human.  Yet 
he  seemed  to  be  even  more  human  than  ordinary  people, 
and  a  thousand  times  more  loving.  What  did  he  preach 
about?  The  Spirit,  love,  the  power  of  faith,  the  un- 
reality of  wealth,  the  unreality  of  everything  outside  the 
soul  and  mind  of  man. 

The  rumour  of  Jesse  gathered  force  and  detail  as  it 
went  on.  It  crossed  the  river  to  New  York  City;  it  found 
the  thousand  ears  of  the  great  newspapers,  that  hurriedly 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          403 

dispatched  reporters  to  trace  the  thread  of  fact  in  the 
maze  of  fable.  Jesse  Bethel?  That  was  the  name  of  the 
man  whose  strange  doings  and  sayings  in  Albany  the  day 
before  filled  columns  of  the  morning  press  in  that  city. 

During  the  evening  the  house  of  the  Lanes  beyond  the 
Palisades  was  besieged  by  an  army  of  young  men  with 
note-books,  who  asked  a  thousand  questions  of  everyone — 
of  Jesse  himself,  the  two  girls,  Lawrence  who  had  been 
so  mysteriously  restored  to  life,  the  twelve  excited  and 
half-bewildered  disciples,  the  black-bearded  doctor,  and  the 
neighbours  who  had  been  present  when  the  wonder  hap- 
pened. Half  a  dozen  illustrators  made  sketches  of  Jesse 
and  sketches  of  Lawrence;  photographs  of  the  two  girls 
mysteriously  disappeared  from  the  mantel;  even  the  old 
uncle  of  the  three  young  people,  who  had  returned  from 
his  daily  business  to  find  his  house  full  of  strangers  and 
his  supposedly  dead  nephew  watching  for  him  from  the 
window,  was  surreptitiously  fixed  in  black  and  white  for 
the  gaze  of  the  reading  world  next  morning.  In  the  midst 
of  the  confusion  a  sound  like  an  explosion  startled  every- 
one; it  was  only  an  enterprising  young  reporter  taking  a 
flash-light  picture  of  the  parlour  where  the  empty  coffin 
still  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  room. 

"An  extraordinary  case  of  catalepsy,"  the  doctor  re- 
peated for  the  hundredth  time. 

"  He  has  raised  others  from  the  dead  before,"  Peter  in- 
sisted, over  and  over  again. 

The  story  of  how  Jesse  stilled  the  storm  on  the  lake 
near  Capronville  was  dramatically  told  by  James  Dana, 
while  a  group  of  men  made  notes  of  what  he  said. 

"  We  have  seen  him  standing  on  the  top  of  a  mountain 
at  night,  shining  like  the  sun  from  head  to  feet,"  John 
confided  to  a  sympathetic  young  man  of  about  his  own  age, 
who  proved  to  be  the  satirist  of  the  most  scurrilous  paper 
in  New  York. 

The  stories  of  miraculous  healing  given  by  the  twelve 
men  were  too  numerous  to  record;  they  were  lumped  to- 
gether by  these  note-book  historians  of  the  hour,  as  an 
effective  background  for  the  immediate  and  more  vital  story 
of  the  resurrection  of  Lawrence  Lane. 

A  sworn  statement  by  the  doctor,  of  the  supposed  death 


404          THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL 

of  his  patient,  including  a  summary  of  the  scientific  tests 
which  he  had  made  in  an  effort  to  persuade  the  sisters  to 
permit  the  burial,  was  seized  upon  with  avidity.  It  was  a 
positive  disproof  of  any  possible  collusion  between  the 
prophet  and  his  friends  which  might  be  claimed  in  future, 
and  was  declared  to  be  such  by  the  doctor,  who  was  a 
graduate  of  the  largest  medical  college  in  the  country. 

Lawrence  himself,  though  he  stood  in  the  centre  of  in- 
terest next  to  Jesse,  had  less  to  say  than  anyone  else.  From 
a  peaceful  sleep  he  had  awakened  to  find  himself  an  object 
of  universal  wonder.  What  could  he  say  by  way  of  ex- 
planation? Obviously,  nothing. 

"  Are  you  not  filled  with  horror  at  the  thought  of  how 
near  you  came  to  being  buried  alive?"  asked  one  sensa- 
tional reporter  of  Lawrence,  with  his  pencil  poised  in  air. 

"  I  am  glad  to  be  with  Jesse  again,"  was  the  simple 
reply.  "  He  could  not  have  let  it  happen." 

"  But  it  surely  would  have  happened,  if  your  friend  had 
not  arrived  to  prevent  it,"  persisted  the  reporter,  who  was 
not  over-endowed  with  delicacy  of  consideration  for  the 
feelings  of  others. 

"  My  sister  and  I  would  not  have  permitted  the  burial 
until  Jesse  came,"  said  the  fair-haired  Mary. 

"  But  supposing  there  had  been  no  Jesse ;  supposing  you 
had  never  met  him?" 

"As  well  suppose  there  were  no  sun  in  the  sky,"  an- 
swered Lawrence,  with  a  loving  glance  at  his  friend. 

This  reporter  wrote  a  story  representing  Lawrence  Lane 
as  a  young  man  of  less  than  mediocre  intellect,  bewitched 
by  the  personality  of  the  man  who  had  brought  him  back 
to  life. 

So  the  interviewing  went  on  for  several  hours,  until 
Lawrence  was  half  asleep  and  even  Jesse  was  weary.  Then 
rose  the  old  uncle,  the  master  of  the  house,  and  respectfully 
but  firmly  told  the  uninvited  guests  that  the  hour  was  late, 
and  that  he  and  the  other  members  of  his  household  re- 
quested the  privilege  of  rest. 


CHAPTER  LXV 

THE  next  morning  a  neighbouring  newsdealer,  who  knew 
Lawrence  and  had  been  much  excited  on  learning  of  his 
restoration  to  life,  sent  to  the  house  a  copy  of  every  New 
York  paper  which  contained  an  account  of  the  extraordinary 
happening  of  the  day  before.  Folded  in  the  usual  way, 
they  made  a  pile  nearly  a  foot  high,  and  Martha  brought 
them  into  the  dining-room  at  breakfast-time  and  placed  them 
on  a  chair  beside  Jesse.  The  uncle  had  already  left  the 
house  for  his  place  of  business  in  the  city;  but  all  the  Ver- 
mont men  were  present,  with  Lawrence  and  his  two  sis- 
ters. 

"  Though  I  spoke  with  the  tongue  of  God  himself,  but 
worked  no  wonders;  though  I  revealed  to  all  mankind  the 
one  great  underlying  secret  of  the  universe,  but  gave  them 
no  sensational  phenomena,  they  would  not  accord  to  me  a 
tenth-part  of  this  attention,"  Jesse  said,  as  he  laid  his  hand 
upon  the  pile  of  papers. 

Here  are  a  few  of  the  headings  and  sub-headings  which 

met  his  eye: 

« 

A  VERMONTER  WHO  RAISES  THE  DEAD. 
THE  RESURRECTION  OF  LAWRENCE  LANE. 
A  PROPHET  ON  THE  PALISADES. 
A  MODERN  MIRACLE. 
CALLED  FROM  His  COFFIN. 
JESSE  BETHEL  JEERS  AT  DEATH. 

Glancing  from  one  paper  to  another,  Jesse  read  aloud 
a  few  paragraphs,  chosen  at  random  from  many  columns: 

"  Jesse  Bethel,  a  prophet  and  wonder-worker  from  Vermont,  yes- 
terday raised  a  man  from  the  dead  in  a  little  house  near  the  Fort 

405 


406          THE    SON    OF    MARY   BETHEL 

Lee  Ferry.  The  physician  who  attended  the  patient  and  pro- 
nounced him  dead  some  days  ago,  declares  it  to  be  a  case  of  cata- 
lepsy; but  the  wild-eyed  disciples  of  the  prophet  insist  that  a 
veritable  miracle  has  been  performed.  The  sworn  statement  of 
the  physician,  which  follows,  would  seem  to  do  away  with  any 
possible  question  of  fraud.  Besides  the  family  of  the  supposed  dead 
man  and  the  twelve  followers  of  Jesse  Bethel,  there  were  present 
at  this  resurrection  some  half-dozen  persons,  including  the  physician 
himself." 


Here  followed  a  minute  account  of  the  occurrence,  given 
with  a  multiplicity  of  lurid  details.  The  three-column 
article  concluded  with  these  words: 

"  If  the  stories  of  the  man's  disciples  are  to  be  credited,  this  new 
prophet  blends  the  wisdom  of  a  Plato  with  the  idealism  of  a 
Buddha,  and  the  magic  of  an  Apollonius  of  Tyana.  His  paradoxical 
sayings  challenge  the  intellect,  his  personality  charms  everyone  who 
comes  in  contact  with  him,  and  the  wonders  he  is  said  to  perform 
would  stagger  the  credulity  of  the  Middle  Ages.  He  prophesies  a 
coming  revolution,  in  which  the  spirit  shall  triumph  over  matter, 
society  shall  become  a  universal  brotherhood,  faith  shall  conquer 
material  force,  and  love  shall  take  the  place  of  selfishness  and  com- 
petition. He  questions  all  accepted  theories  of  value.  He  declares 
that  the  Church  has  sold  itself  to  mammon,  and  that  he  is  himself 
the  path  by  which  men  shall  climb  to  the  higher  life." 

In  the  same  paper  was  a  half-column  editorial  which  con- 
tained these  words: 

"  To  the  sober  judgment  of  sensible  persons  Jesse  Bethel  seems 
to  be  a  sublime  madman,  sincere  as  the  rule  of  three,  but  a  man 
who  might  possibly  become  dangerous  to  law  and  order,  if  his  in- 
fluence should  grow  among  the  people." 

Another  paper,  commenting  editorially  on  the  raising  of 
Lawrence  Lane,  had  this  to  say  of  Jesse  and  his  mission: 

"To  proclaim  himself  the  spokesman  of  the  Divine;  to  break  the 
tablets  of  accepted  law  and  substitute  his  own  ideas  of  right  and 
wrong ;  to  weaken  the  superstition  of  mine  and  thine,  in  favour  of  the 
more  elastic  and  convenient  law  of  need;  to  prove  the  worthlessness 


407 

of  material  prosperity  and  comfort,  and  the  value  of  improvidence 
and  visionary  inactivity,  seem  to  be  the  purpose  of  this  youngest 
and  most  fascinating  of  the  enemies  of  Baal." 

Still  another  editorial  interpreter  of  the  incident  at  Fort 
Lee  and  the  man  who  effected  it,  ended  his  column  with 
these  remarks: 

"  Miracles  do  not  happen  in  this  day  and  generation.  The  need 
for  them  is  past.  Science  on  the  one  hand,  and  accepted  religion 
on  the  other,  give  light  enough  for  mankind.  We  cannot  question 
the  truth  of  the  statement  of  a  reputable  physician  who  says  that 
the  man  who  came  to  life  yesterday  was  to  all  appearances  dead, 
and  had  been  so  for  some  days;  but  catalepsy,  while  an  unusual 
disease,  is  not  unique;  nor  should  the  fact  that  a  man  awoke  from 
a  cataleptic  sleep  in  the  presence  of  twenty-two  persons,  one  of 
whom  happened  to  be  a  religious  agitator,  prove  sufficient  basis  for 
a  fit  of  popular  hysteria.  This  journal  is  not  given  to  prophecy, 
but  we  shall  be  happily  surprised  if  the  perfectly  natural  awaken- 
ing of  Lawrence  Lane  is  not  made  the  groundwork  of  an  elaborate 
structure  of  fable.  Of  the  character  and  honesty  of  this  so-called 
'  mouthpiece  of  the  Spirit,'  to  quote  our  esteemed  contemporary  of 
Albany,  we  have  no  knowledge  on  which  to  base  an  opinion.  But 
if  his  sermon  in  that  city  two  days  ago  was  accurately  reported, 
he  is  evidently  a  revolutionist,  all  the  more  dangerous  because  of 
his  refinement  and  the  idealistic  nature  of  his  teachings." 

Most  of  the  papers  printed  large  pictures  of  Jesse  and 
smaller  ones  of  Lawrence;  reproductions  of  the  missing 
photographs  of  the  two  girls  appeared  in  the  same  sheet 
which  cast  reflections  upon  the  intelligence  of  their  brother, 
and  sketches  of  pretty  girls  which  bore  no  resemblance  to 
them  were  plentiful.  Peter  Bond  and  James  and  John 
Dana  were  the  only  ones  among  Jesse's  twelve  companions 
who  were  mentioned  by  name  on  this  first  day  of  their 
metropolitan  celebrity. 

"  Surely  to  be  written  about  like  this  is  to  be  great  and 
famous,"  declared  Judson,  as  he  eagerly  scanned  one  page 
after  another. 

Jesse  smiled  sadly  at  him,  and  said. 

"  If  you  should  ever  meet  the  greatest  man  in  the  world, 
you  would  probably  find  him  rather  unconcerned  with  the 


408          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

idea  of  his  own  greatness.  He  might  even  be  unconscious 
of  it — if  he  were  really  great." 

Though  he  was  still  besieged  by  representatives  of  the 
press,  this  was  the  only  peaceful  day  of  Jesse's  sojourn  in 
the  region  of  the  great  city.  On  the  morrow  he  must  leave 
this  quiet  home  and  attack  the  monster  of  materialism  in 
its  stronghold  across  the  river;  after  this  day  there  would 
be  for  him  no  more  tranquil  enjoyment  of  the  company 
of  loving  friends;  after  this  day  he  would  belong  exclusively 
to  his  great  but  terrible  destiny. 

In  honour  of  Jesse,  a  large  company  had  been  invited  to 
supper  at  the  home  of  the  Lanes  that  night.  While  Mar- 
tha busied  herself  with  preparations  for  the  feast,  Mary 
sat  on  a  hassock  at  Jesse's  feet,  listening  to  his  words  and 
asking  him  questions.  She  had  a  humble  opinion  of  her 
own  worth,  and  her  choosing  that  low  seat  instead  of  a 
chair  on  a  level  with  his  own  was  symbolical  of  her  mental 
attitude.  John  Dana  had  been  telling  her  about  the  wide 
travels  and  accomplishments  of  Mary  Magnus,  whom  she 
was  soon  to  know,  and  she  now  said  to  Jesse: 

"  I  am  afraid  that  she  will  find  me  very  ignorant  and 
uninteresting.  I  have  been  nowhere,  while  she  knows  all 
the  far-away  wonderful  countries  of  the  world." 

"  It  is  well  to  know  the  surface  of  the  earth,"  he  an- 
swered ;  "  but  it  is  better  to  know  the  deeps  of  the  soul. 
And  the  only  plumb-line  for  those  deeps  is  love." 

"  Does  the  other  Mary  know  the  deeps  of  the  soul  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"What  is  the  test  of  that  love  which  is  the  plumb-line 
of  the  soul?"  Mary  asked,  wistfully. 

"When  you  can  accept  the  fact  that  your  friends  are 
selfish,  vain,  weak,  and  sometimes  disloyal  in  thought  and 
word,  and  love  them  notwithstanding,  you  have  learned  the 
meaning  of  love." 

The  girl  drew  a  long  sigh. 

"  Does  the  other  Mary  know  that  kind  of  love  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"Yes." 

Jesse  saw  the  tear  which  quivered  on  her  long  lashes,  but 
he  made  no  reference  to  it.  Oh,  if  he  could  only  teach  these 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          409 

many  beautiful  souls  to  love  and  understand  each  other,  what 
a  power  they  would  be  for  the  carrying  on  of  his  work  when 
he  should  be  no  longer  with  them!  If  he  could  make  love 
for  one  another  a  part  of  their  religion,  indissolubly  asso- 
ciated with  the  memory  of  him!  He  said  to  Mary  Lane: 

"  He  who  cannot  find  God  in  the  soul  of  his  fellow  being, 
will  not  find  Him  in  his  own  soul,  nor  in  the  infinite  spaces 
of  the  universe. 

"  You  have  heard  much  of  the  Holy  Spirit,"  he  continued. 
:'  The  Holy  Spirit,  in  its  highest  aspect,  is  the  sympathetic 
relation  of  the  innumerable  atoms  of  the  one  God — ourselves 
and  all  others." 

She  gazed  up  into  his  face  with  yearning  eyes. 

"  Oh,  that  I  might  do  some  great  work!  "  she  breathed. 
"  Compared  with  the  men  who  can  go  out  and  preach  of  the 
Spirit  and  of  you,  and  compared  with  the  other  Mary  who 
has  done  so  much,  I  seem  to  myself  such  a  small  and  in- 
significant being." 

"  Do  not  despise  your  own  being,  however  humble.  Does 
the  clover  refuse  to  blossom,  because  it  cannot  produce  a 
lily?  In  the  struggle  to  achieve  what  was  foreign  to  its 
nature,  would  it  not  pass  blossomless  under  the  scythe 
of  the  mower?  From  the  humble  clover  the  bees  drink 
sweetest  honey." 

Once  or  twice  during  their  long  talk  Martha  had  passed 
through  the  room,  and  several  times  her  voice  was  heard 
outside  in  anxious  consultation  with  butcher,  baker  or  serv- 
ing-maid. She  now  came  and  stood  in  the  doorway,  and 
a  troubled  look  was  on  her  face. 

"  Master,"  she  said,  "  is  it  right  that  Mary  should  sit 
with  you,  while  I  do  all  this  work  alone?  Will  you  not 
tell  her  to  help  me  ?  " 

"  For  many  years,  dear  Martha,"  Jesse  answered, 
"  you  have  been  eating  and  drinking  and  making  feasts  for 
your  friends;  but  I  was  not  with  you.  The  labours  of  the 
household  are  only  for  the  day;  but  the  labours  of  the 
Spirit  to  make  beautiful  its  invisible  dwelling-place  in  the 
heart  are  for  all  time.  Mary  has  been  preparing  a  feast 
for  herself  and  for  you,  a  feast  of  love  whose  richness  will 
never  be  exhausted." 


410          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

But  when  Martha  had  left  them,  Jesse  said  to  Mary: 
"  If  you  go  now  and  help  your  sister  with  her  work,  it 
may  be  that  you  will  find  the  jewel  of  love  of  which  we 
have  been  speaking — hidden  somewhere  in  the  kitchen." 

The  dining-room  in  the  house  of  the  Lanes  was  a  large 
one.  For  the  supper  that  night  long  tables  were  placed 
down  the  north  and  south  sides  of  the  room,  and  another 
across  the  west  end,  forming  a  three-sided  open  square.  As 
Jesse  paused  for  a  second  on  the  threshold,  a  chance  ex- 
tension of  the  white  cloth  at  the  foot  of  the  left-hand  table, 
together  with  some  dark  object  which  covered  the  other, 
end,  gave  to  the  whole  arrangement  the  form  of  the 
Hebrew  mystical  letter  Tau.  The  vision  fired  his  imagi- 
nation, and  as  he  passed  on  to  his  seat  in  the  centre  of  the 
farther  table  facing  the  room,  on  his  face  was  the  uplifted 
look  of  one  who  has  caught  a  sudden  glimpse  of  the  great 
Mystery. 

Near  Jesse  sat  the  twelve  men  who  had  come  down 
with  him  from  Capronville,  and  opposite  sat  Lawrence, 
so  recently  reclaimed  from  death.  The  atmosphere  of  the 
room  was  tense  with  the  repressed  excitement  of  its  oc- 
cupants; for  each  of  the  two  score  guests  and  neighbours 
of  the  Lanes  had  come  to  see  the  man  of  whom  all  New 
York  was  talking,  as  well  as  to  celebrate  their  friend's  re- 
turn to  the  world  of  living  beings  through  his  agency. 
What  strange  doctrine  would  he  expound  to  them?  So 
eagerly  they  listened  for  anything  which  he  might  say, 
that  there  was  little  conversation  at  the  lower  end  of  the 
tables.  His  first  words  made  them  open  their  eyes  in 
astonishment,  so  different  was  the  idea  expressed  from  any- 
thing they  had  ever  -before  thought.  It  revealed  to  their 
half-trained  minds  a  new  conception  of  the  relations  be- 
tween themselves  and  the  Divine.  Someone  had  asked  Jesse 
a  question  about  God,  which  brought  out  this  reply: 

"You  seem  to  think  that  God  is  the  centre  of  a  circle, 
and  that  you  are  somewhere  on  the  circumference.  On  the 
contrary,  each  man  is  the  centre  of  the  great  circle  of  which 
God  is  the  circumference." 

"  How  may  I  gain  a  clearer  idea  of  the  Great  Spirit 
which  is  God?"  the  same  man  further  questioned. 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          411 

"  Meditate  upon  the  Spirit  to  gain  knowledge  of  the 
Spirit.  Man  does  not  learn  astronomy  by  digging  in  the 
soil." 

"  We  shall  all  know  when  we  are  dead,"  a  little  woman 
ventured;  but  Jesse  shook  his  head,  saying: 

"  Life  is  the  great  teacher.  He  who  cannot  learn  of 
Life  will  be  a  dull  pupil  in  the  school  of  Death." 

Most  of  the  men  and  women  present  believed  themselves 
to  be  religious,  and  a  white-bearded  man  began  to  speak 
of  the  rewards  of  a  good  life.  Jesse's  eyes  enveloped  him 
with  a  look  of  inexpressible  sweetness  as  he  answered: 

"  He  who  desires  reward  for  good  actions  may  obtain 
what  seems  to  be  a  reward,  but  there  is  a  higher  mo- 
tive." 

The  old  man,  who  had  been  successful  in  a  material  way, 
and  attributed  his  bank-balance  in  old  age  to  a  life-long 
diligence  in  church-going,  declared  that  according  to  his 
belief  the  man  who  was  always  ready  to  testify  for  the 
Lord  would  be  blessed  with  worldly  prosperity.  But  Jesse 
said: 

"  He  who  proclaims  the  truth  that  the  world  may  re- 
ward him,  had  better  go  till  the  soil  and  be  sure  of  his 
wages." 

Then,  after  a  moment,  he  added: 

"  He  who  shall  perform  all  the  duties  of  life  without 
attachment  to  results,  or  even  the  hope  of  reward,  will  find 
his  actions  trebled  in  effectiveness." 

"You  say  that  the  Spirit  is  one,  and  that  the  Spirit  is 
in  each  of  us,"  a  puzzled  youth  now  said.  "  How  can 
that  which  is  one,  be  also  many?  " 

Jesse's  reply  was  fully  understood  by  no  one  at  the  table 
save  John  Dana;  though  Mary  Lane,  who  was  sitting  at 
the  far  end  of  one  of  the  side-tables,  felt  in  her  soul  a 
vaguely  ecstatic  response.  He  said: 

"  There  is  the  One,  and  there  are  the  many ;  but  every 
truly  self-conscious  individual  among  the  many  is  con- 
sciously the  One." 

Another  guest,  a  restless-eyed,  expensively-dressed  woman 
of  some  prominence  in  local  society,  told  Jesse  that 
she  was  very  glad  the  newspapers  had  manifested  so  much 
interest  in  him,  and  that  she  believed  the  excitement  over 


4i2          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

the  restoration  of  Lawrence  to  life  would  be  of  incalcu- 
lable benefit  to  the  success  of  his  teaching. 

He  smiled  indulgently  at  her  banality,  and  said: 

"  Yes.  The  world  is  so  fond  of  the  bread  of  excitement, 
it  will  not  refuse  to  eat  it  even  when  it  is  light  with  the 
leaven  of  the  true  philosophy." 

Judson,  who  sat  next  to  this  woman  and  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  table  from  Jesse,  expressed  his  great  satis- 
faction that  so  much  recognition  and  honour  had  been  ac- 
corded to  the  Master;  but  Jesse's  response  he  could  not  un- 
derstand : 

"  The  true  sage  shuns  the  praises  of  men,  that  would 
foster  in  him  the  delusion  of  separateness  from  those  whom 
the  world  praises  not.  To  the  really  enlightened  spirit, 
both  the  praise  and  the  blame  of  the  world  are  soundless 
as  the  voices  of  babes  on  the  other  side  of  the  earth  to 
those  that  dwell  on  this  side." 

One  of  the  guests,  a  young  man  interested  in  work 
among  the  poor,  asked  Jesse  what  he  believed  to  be  God's 
reason  for  allowing  so  much  misery  on  earth.  Jesse  an- 
swered : 

"  As  the  moon  is  reflected  in  a  million  pools  and  seems 
a  million  moons,  so  is  the  one  Reason  (which  is  God's) 
reflected  as  a  myriad  reasons  in  the  pools  of  the  human 
mind." 

Another  man  asked  Jesse  when  he  expected  to  enter 
the  city  and  begin  his  teaching  there. 

"To-morrow  morning,"  was  the  answer.  "The  time  is 
now  fully  ripe."  Then,  looking  from  one  to  another  of 
his  followers,  he  added: 

"  He  who  knows  when  to  speak  and  when  to  be  silent, 
is  more  learned  than  he  who  shall  utter  untimely  words  in 
a  score  of  languages." 

Lawrence  spoke  little  during  the  meal,  and  only  when 
directly  addressed  by  someone.  He  was  still  bewildered 
by  the  strangeness  of  the  experience  through  which  he  had 
passed,  and  could  not  realise  it.  Though  to  his  family 
and  friends  he  had  been  as  one  dead,  and  they  had  looked 
upon  his  seemingly  lifeless  form  and  heard  the  words  of 
the  consignation  to  the  grave  pronounced  above  him,  _  he 
had  had  no  part  in  the  solemnity  or  in  the  grief.  As 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          413 

into  a  quiet  sleep  he  had  passed  from  the  consciousness  of 
his  surroundings;  as  from  a  quiet  sleep  he  had  awakened 
some  days  later  to  find  himself  a  centre  of  universal  in- 
terest. And  now  his  sisters  were  giving  a  large  supper- 
party  to  celebrate  an  event  which  seemed  to  him  unreal. 
Even  the  coffin  from  which  he  was  lifted  by  Jesse  had  been 
carried  away  without  his  having  seen  it.  Yet  these  well- 
meaning  people  kept  on  asking  questions,  which  he  could 
only  answer  with  "  I  do  not  know,"  or  "  I  do  not  re- 
member." 

His  love  for  Jesse  had  now  become  adoration.  He  was 
afraid  to  think  of  what  might  have  been  his  fate  if  this 
friend  had  not  come  to  save  him,  and  he  could  only  gaze 
and  gaze  at  the  face  of  his  friend  with  such  rapt  concentra- 
tion that  the  physician  who  watched  him  feared  that  he 
would  again  lapse  into  a  state  of  unconsciousness. 

The  supper  was  near  its  end,  and  Jesse  had  told  the  lis- 
tening guests  more  of  his  spiritual  doctrine  than  they  were 
able  to  comprehend,  when  a  movement  near  the  door 
drew  his  attention,  and  the  fixedness  of  his  look  made 
every  other  eye  follow  his. 

There  in  the  doorway  stood  a  beautiful  dark-haired 
young  woman  robed  in  pale  grey,  a  stranger  to  all  present 
save  the  men  from  Vermont.  Half  timidly  she  advanced 
into  the  room,  having  greeted  Martha  in  the  hall  beyond. 
In  her  hands  she  held  a  fragile  and  exquisite  vial  of  orien- 
tal crystal,  the  gift  of  an  Asiatic  ruler  on  one  of  her  world- 
circling  journeys.  She  passed  down  the  right  side  of  the 
room  next  the  wall,  behind  the  seated  guests,  and  around 
to  the  place  where  Jesse  sat  at  the  end. 

"  Why,  it  is  Mary,  our  sister !  "  cried  John,  rising  with 
joy  to  greet  her. 

Jesse's  face  was  alight  with  welcome  for  his  faithful 
helper,  and  her  coming  there  alone  meant  that  his  mother 
was  safely  housed  on  the  other  side  of  the  river.  Seeing 
the  precious  vial  in  her  hand,  he  said: 

"  Has  my  daughter  brought  an  offering  to  the  altar  of 
her  faith?  " 

Every  eye  was  fixed  on  Mary  as  she  stood  holding  the 
fragile  crystal  vessel  above  the  head  of  the  seated  Jesse. 
Then  suddenly  over  the  senses  of  all  swept  a  rare,  delicious 


4H          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

perfume,  rich  with  the  faith  and  mystery  and  beauty  of 
the  East,  bringing  to  every  soul — save  only  one — joy  and 
the  blessedness  of  love.  Mary,  in  the  enthusiasm  of  her 
devotion,  had  broken  the  vial  and  poured  the  precious  at- 
tar upon  the  head  of  the  Master.  Hereafter  for  many 
days,  wherever  he  should  go,  his  bodily  presence  would 
carry  to  the  perception  of  even  the  most  obtuse  a  sense  of 
permeating  sweetness. 

For  some  moments  there  was  utter  silence  in  the  room, 
while  every  person  breathed  deep  draughts  of  the  pleasur- 
able fragrance.  Then  the  harsh  voice  of  Judson  Carey 
broke  the  stillness. 

"  Oh,  what  a  waste  is  this!  The  vial  and  the  perfume 
are  both  valuable.  They  might  have  been  sold  for  much 
money,  which  would  have  bought  bread  for  the  hungry." 

Jesse  turned  his  calm  blue  eyes  upon  the  face  of  the 
displeased  man,  whose  eyes  shifted  uneasily  before  their 
penetrating  gaze.  He  said: 

"  May  those  who  follow  me  devote  their  lives  to  feed- 
ing the  hungry  with  both  material  and  spiritual  bread — 
when  I  am  no  longer  with  them." 

Then,  seeing  on  one  or  two  other  faces  a  look  which 
seemed  to  question  the  propriety  of  Mary's  action,  and 
seeing  the  veil  of  unshed  tears  through  which  her  loving 
eyes  shone  on  him,  he  said: 

"  Do  not  trouble  her  with  your  questions  or  your  doubts. 
Hers  is  that  perfect  devotion  which  places  no  consider- 
ation before  the  object  of  its  faith.  It  is  the  sweetness  of 
her  soul's  fidelity  which  she  has  poured  upon  me.  The 
fidelity  and  the  sweetness  shall  witness  for  me  after  I  am 
dead,  the  perfume  envelop  my  body  in  the  tomb." 

John,  who  loved  Mary  as  a  sister,  gave  to  her  his  own 
chair  at  the  left  of  Jesse,  and  seated  himself  on  the  broad 
ledge  of  the  window  just  behind  them.  All  the  reserve  and 
self-control  of  her  worldly  training  dropped  from  her 
like  a  veil  at  this  reunion  with  the  Master.  The  tears 
were  running  down  her  face  as  she  sat  beside  him.  She 
seemed  unconscious  of  the  presence  of  strangers,  oblivious 
to  her  surroundings — to  everything  save  ±he  one  blinding 
fact  that  they  were  now  at  the  doors  of  the  great  city 
which  he  had  told  her  was  to  be  the  scene  of  his  death. 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          415 

When,  where,  how  death  would  come  to  him,  she  did  not 
know;  but  that  it  would  come,  she  was  the  only  one  among 
his  followers  who  realised.  And  she  was  half-distraught, 
for  during  the  three  nights  since  he  had  left  Capronville 
she  had  hardly  slept  an  hour.  Now  she  bowed  her  head 
upon  the  table  and  wept  without  control.  Such  tears  are 
Nature's  kind  restorative  for  the  overwrought  heart  and 
brain  that  can  endure  no  more. 

When  Jesse  felt  that  the  unendurable  tension  of  her 
grief  was  loosened,  he  beckoned  to  Martha,  who  stood 
troubled  and  uncertain  in  the  nearest  corner. 

"  Let  her  rest  in  your  room  for  half  an  hour,"  he  said ; 
"  then  Andrew  and  Lawrence  shall  take  her  back  to  my 
mother  in  the  city.  The  night  air  and  the  change  of 
scene  will  work  good  to  your  brother,  and  my  mother 
would  not  sleep  if  Mary  should  not  return." 

When  the  two  had  left  the  room,  Jesse  said  to  the  as- 
sembled company: 

"  Among  all  the  faithful  ones  who  serve  my  cause,  there 
is  none  more  faithful  than  this  woman.  And  wherever 
the  truths  of  the  Spirit  and  of  my  life  shall  be  told  in  the 
future,  the  things  which  she  has  done  shall  cause  her  to  be 
remembered." 


CHAPTER    LXVI 

FROM  THE  JOURNAL  OF   MARY  MAGNUS 

Sunday,  at  Dawn, 

TO-DAY  he  will  enter  the  city,  the  great,  rich,  cruel,  and 
indifferent  city,  where  once  I  felt  at  home  and  among 
friends,  and  where  now  I  feel  an  alien. 

How  can  his  spiritual  message  reach  these  minds  so 
deeply  sunk  in  selfishness?  What  medium  of  communica- 
tion can  there  be  between  his  purposes  and  theirs?  I  who 
know  this  life  so  well  can  see  the  hopelessness  of  his  sub- 
lime attempt  as  no  one  else  can  see  it.  Why  did  I  not 
dissuade  him  from  the  sacrifice?  But  would  I  have  dared? 
Would  I  have  had  the  right?  And  what  word  of  any 
creature  so  unworthy  as  I  am  could  have  deflected  him  by 
a  hair's  breadth  from  the  course  which  he  had  chosen? 

Oh,  his  overwhelming  kindness  to  me!  It  leaves  my 
soul  defenceless  before  the  charges  of  its  own  self-accusa- 
tion. John  told  me  the  exalting  things  he  said  of  me  last 
night  after  I  had  left  the  room.  I  know  that  he  speaks  no 
word  which  he  does  not  believe ;  but  ,how  can  he  believe 
such  things  of  me — he  who  can  read  the  soul,  and  who 
knows  the  history  of  my  failures? 

What  can  I  do  to  help  him  here?  Should  I  go  to  my 
old  friends  and  tell  them  of  his  greatness,  they  would  not 
understand.  My  faith  in  him  would  seem  to  them  but 
the  latest  of  a  long  series  of  vagaries;  even  my  testimony 
as  to  the  wonders  I  have  witnessed  would  be  interpreted 
by  them  as  evidence  of  the  self-delusion  of  an  enthusiastic 
nature  fascinated  by  the  charm  of  a  powerful  personality. 
And  what  right  have  I  even  to  aspire  to  help  him,  save  by 
the  humblest  service,  such  as  Anna  and  Rose  and  Eva 
may  also  give  ? 

And  he  has  said  that  he  will  die  here,  that  his  death  is 
necessary  as  the  seal  upon  his  work.  Even  in  this  trial 
also  have  I  failed,  for  I  would  save  him  if  I  could,  would 

416 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          417 

give  my  life  here  and  hereafter  to  avert  but  for  one  week 
the  pain  of  death  for  him.  I  am  abashed  before  my  own 
presumption;  yet  would  I  dare  to  look  God  in  the  face 
and  bare  my  soul  to  the  lightning  of  His  anger,  offering 
my  share  in  the  ages  of  eternity  in  exchange  for  a  few 
days  more  in  the  sunshine  for  Jesse.  How  God  must 
laugh  at  such  a  prayer!  Yes,  in  this  also  have  I  failed, 
for  I  would  retard  his  work  to  save  him.  And  I  may 
not  even  follow  my  own  wish  to  die  when  he  does,  for 
he  has  given  me  a  solemn  charge  to  help  in  carrying  on 
the  work  when  he  is  no  more  with  us.  In  this  one  thing 
I  shall  not  fail.  There  is  a  limit  to  the  longest  life,  and 
from  even  those  who  look  most  longingly  for  death,  the 
stars  cannot  for  ever  withhold  it. 

Of  all  the  millions  of  men  and  women'  who  daily  pass 
through  the  streets  of  this  great  city,  why  should  I  have 
met  last  night  the  one  being  whom  I  least  desired  to  see — 
the  man  whose  lips  were  the  last  to  touch  mine,  in  the  old 
life  when  love  to  me  meant  bodily  possession?  If  he  had 
seen  and  questioned  me  last  night,  what  could  I  have  told 
him  of  my  present  life  which  he  would  have  understood? 
And  no  better  proof  could  there  be  of  the  essential  unreal- 
ity of  what  we  called  our  love!  Though  learned  in  the 
lore  of  the  schools,  he  would  accept  nothing  as  real  which 
he  could  not  see  or  touch;  and  I  have  often  heard  him 
say  that  the  spirit  was  merely  an  attribute  of  matter.  He 
loved  me,  I  believe,  to  the  limit  of  his  possibility;  but 
when  I  remember  a  definition  he  once  gave  of  love,  my 
cheek  grows  hot.  Yet  one  bitter  night  I  saw  him  take 
off  his  overcoat  and  wrap  it  round  a  shivering  beggar 
in  the  street ;  and  when  I  asked  him  why  he  did  it,  he  said 
that  the  sight  of  the  freezing  wretch  hurt  him  far  worse 
than  the  cold.  And  he  was  often  gentle  to  me  as  a  mother. 
Why  do  I  shiver  and  draw  back  at  the  memory  of  his  gen- 
tleness? It  is  a  part  of  that  life  I  would  forget — that  I 
can  never  forget. 

Has  the  Master  forgotten?  It  cannot  be,  and  yet  it 
often  seems  so.  But  one  day  I  overheard  a  woman — a 
newcomer  to  our  band  who  soon  deserted  it — speak  dis- 
paragingly of  me  to  Jesse  as  a  woman  who  had  loved  men 
without  marriage.  And  from  my  place  in  the  next  room 


418          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

I  heard  his  gentle  voice :  "  Which  is  the  worse,  think 
you,  love  without  marriage,  or  marriage  without  love?  " 
So  has  he  always  defended  me.  And  he  knows  that  since 
the  day  when  I  first  heard  him  speaking  to  the  people  in  the 
little  park  in  Vergennes,  I  have  been  as  one  set  apart  for 
the  service  of  a  temple,  a  priestess  whom  no  investiture 
of  snow-white  robes  could  make  more  inviolably  sacred  to 
the  Spirit — the  chaste  but  ecstatic  Spirit  whose  slave  I  am 
for  his  sake. 

Daily  and  nightly  since  our  talk  in  the  garden  of  Peter's 
house,  when  we  gazed  out  together  over  the  grey-blue,  twi- 
light-veiled river,  and  he  told  me  that  he  was  to  die  in 
the  body  but  still  remain  a  living,  vital  presence,  unseen 
but  more  intimately  near  and  real  to  us  than  now,  I 
have  thought  of  little  else  and  dreamed  of  little  else.  Will 
he  reveal  himself  to  me  as  an  ethereal  form  which  I  can 
see  with  the  inner  eyes  he  is  teaching  me  to  use?  Can  I 
make  his  presence  visible  to  others  through  the  intensity 
of  my  own  sight  and  the  intensity  of  my  own  faith?  I 
know  that  I  have  touched  only  the  fringe  of  the  floating 
garment  of  spiritual  love;  but  I  feel  that  there  is  a  power 
in  my  soul  which  yet  shall  wrap  the  folds  of  that  tenuous 
veil  about  me,  a  power  and  fearlessness  which  shall  enable 
me  to  stand  upon  the  lonely,  ice-cold  height  where  the 
Invisible  reveals  itself,  in  the  almost  inaccessible  pavilion 
on  the  top  of  the  frozen  mountain  with  the  heart  of  fire. 
The  child  of  sin  and  earth  who  reaches  that  place  must 
have  suffered  as  I  have  suffered,  must  have  relinquished  the 
last  quivering  and  tear-stained  hope  of  selfish  happiness. 

Is  despair  the  magic  key  which  opens  the  door  of 
power?  It  may  be  so.  If  the  Intelligence  which  rules 
our  world  has  set  that  price  upon  that  rare  possession,  then 
surely  I  have  paid  it. 

Yet  the  woman  in  me  shrinks  and  trembles — the  woman 
I  can  never  altogether  outgrow  so  long  as  I  am  I.  Some- 
times my  soul  seems  to  be  standing  alone  on  the  top  of  a 
high  mountain,  with  the  winds  of  the  worlds  blowing 
round  it,  and  far  below,  through  the  mists,  the  soul  can 
see  the  wistful,  quivering-mouthed -woman  who  is  Mary 
Magnus  reaching  to  it  pleadingly  with  her  weak,  pathetic 
hands.  And  the  vision  of  the  soul  is  blinded  with  tears 
of  pity  for  the  woman,  who  seems  to  be  its  child. 


CHAPTER   LXVII 

IT  was  ten  o'clock  on  Sunday  morning  when  Jesse  and  the 
twelve  men,  followed  by  Lawrence  and  his  sisters  and  a 
large  company  of  men  and  women  from  the  neighbourhood, 
started  for  the  city.  The  day  was  warm  for  a  day  in  early 
spring,  and  the  sun  looked  down  exultingly  upon  a  world 
already  stirring  with  the  urge  of  reawakening  life.  There 
was  no  wind;  the  budding  trees  stood  absolutely  motion- 
less. In  telling  the  story  of  this  day  in  after  years,  the 
youngest  of  the  Twelve  declared  that  Nature,  having  hur- 
ried her  work  to  make  ready  for  the  Master's  coming, 
waited  during  these  morning  hours  in  utter  stillness,  as 
if  listening  for  the  sound  of  his  footsteps.  The  imagi- 
nation of  this  most  poetic  follower  of  Jesse  saw  symbols 
and  strange  meanings  in  many  of  the  simple  incidents  of 
the  Master's  life.  But  the  day  was  really  very  warm  and 
still. 

There  was  a  look  on  Jesse's  face  as  he  passed  out  into 
the  sunshine  which  even  those  who  knew  him  best  had 
never  seen  before.  His  face  was  not  less  sweet,  but  more 
determined  in  expression;  his  eyes  were  wider  and  more 
brilliant;  the  half-languorous  loveliness  which  had  been 
his  greatest  charm  during  the  months  of  his  ministry 
among  the  little  villages  and  fields  of  his  native  State  was 
reinforced  now  by  a  sterner  power  for  sterner  uses.  The 
loveliness  was  there  and  the  sweetness,  but  behind  them 
was  the  new  force  summoned  for  the  new  and  greater 
need. 

They  went  along  the  winding  road  toward  the  ferry; 
but  when  they  came  to  the  edge  of  the  Palisades  above  the 
river,  where  the  full  view  of  the  city  burst  upon  them — 
the  miles  on  miles  of  towers  and  homes  and  many-win- 
dowed buildings  forming  a  ragged,  endless  line  against  the 
blue-white  morning  sky — Jesse  stopped.  He  stood  and 
gazed  at  the  city  across  the  intervening  water.  Over 
there  were  millions  of  men  and  women,  striving,  suffer- 

419 


420          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

ing,  yearning,  enjoying,  tossed  hither  and  thither  on  the 
waves  of  passion,  each  isolate  soul  a  centre  of  the  univer- 
sal consciousness,  a  focus  for  the  sun-rays  of  the  Divine. 
Oh,  to  reach  them  all  and  lift  them  to  the  level  of  their 
own  indwelling  angel!  Oh,  to  be  the  way  whereby  those 
faltering  feet  might  walk  to  the  sure  heights  of  peace! 
How  small  a  sacrifice  would  his  life  be  upon  that  altar! 

The  tears  of  a  love  too  vast  for  the  comprehension  of 
any  lesser  mortal  overflowed  his  eyes.  The  men  who 
watched  him  saw  the  colour  of  his  cheek  turn  gradually 
from  rose  to  white;  they  felt  the  influence  of  an  emotion 
they  were  not  large  enough  to  understand.  Even  the  light- 
est among  the  strangers  who  had  come  with  him  that 
morning,  more  out  of  curiosity  than  for  any  deeper  in- 
terest, were  moved  from  their  usual  commonplace  indif- 
ference to  all  serious  things  by  the  power  of  his  presence 
as  he  stood  there  yearning  toward  the  city  of  his  com- 
ing martyrdom — though  this  they  did  not  know. 

On  the  ferry-boat  which  carried  them  across  the  river 
John  turned  his  eyes  from  the  long  line  of  buildings  to 
his  Master's  face. 

"Oh,  the  great,  cruel  city!"  he  murmured.  But  Jesse 
answered  him: 

"  The  city  is  neither  cruel  nor  kind ;  it  is  merely  self- 
centred,  engrossed  in  pursuing  the  desires  of  self.  What 
seems  to  be  its  cruelty  is  but  unconsciousness  of  the  larger 
Self,  of  which  the  smaller  is  a  distorted  shadow." 

"And  what  will  you  tell  the  people  of  the  city  on  this 
first  day  among  them?  " 

"  Can  the  telegraph-wire  say  what  message  will  be 
flashed  over  it  an  hour  hence?  No  more  can  I  say  now 
what  message  the  Spirit  will  deliver  through  my  mouth." 

"  And  has  it  always  been  like  that  ?  You  never  know 
beforehand?" 

"  It  has  always  been  like  that,  and  I  never  know  before- 
hand. Were  I  too  eager  to  express  some  thought  of  the 
man  that  is  I,  the  message  of  the  Spirit  might  go  unde- 
livered." 

In  the  ferry-house  on  the  New  York  side  they  were  met 
by  Jim  Bethel,  the  Capronville  physician,  and  several  of 
the  women  members  of  their  band:  Jesse's  mother,  Mary 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          421 

Magnus,  Anna  Martin,  Rose  Thomas,  Eva  Bethel,  and 
the  mother  of  James  and  John  Dana. 

The  meeting  between  Jesse  and  his  mother  was  quiet. 
A  stranger  would  have  thought  they  had  parted  the  day 
before,  nor  guessed  that  the  mother's  heart  was  breaking 
with  the  grief  which  even  her  exalted  spirit  could  not  mas- 
ter. In  giving  her  son  to  his  great  mission  she  had  re- 
linquished all  the  privileges  of  motherhood  save  only  that 
of  tears.  As  they  went  toward  the  train  which  was  to 
take  them  down  to  the  centre  of  the  city,  she  walked 
quietly  beside  Mary  Magnus,  who  was  the  only  one  among 
all  the  followers  of  Jesse  whose  sympathy  was  deep  enough 
to  see  and  comprehend  her  feelings.  Though  in  after  days 
the  mother  of  the  Master  was  to  be  regarded  by  them  all 
with  a  reverence  akin  to  worship,  in  this  her  time  of 
greatest  trial  she  was  upheld  and  strengthened  by  the  de- 
votion of  one  woman. 

Andrew  had  seen  Anna  Martin  for  a.  few  minutes  the 
night  before,  when  he  and  Lawrence  went  with  Mary 
Magnus  to  the  women's  lodgings  in  the  city.  Month 
after  month  these  two  had  waited  and  loved  in  silence, 
trusting  to  the  hour  when  he  in  whose  hand  they  had  laid 
their  destiny  should  give  them  to  each  other,  purified  by 
denial  in  the  service  of  the  Spirit.  To-day  they  walked 
side  by  side  without  speaking,  only  by  a  deep  look  now  and 
then  revealing  their  hearts  to  each  other. 

They  left  the  train  at  Forty-second  Street  and  walked 
westward  to  Fifth  Avenue,  now  thronged  with  well-dressed 
men  and  women,  some  of  them  on  their  way  to  church, 
others  on  pleasure  bent,  enjoying  the  spring  sunshine.  Ev- 
ery eye  was  turned  to  follow  Jesse  as  he  passed. 

"Who  is  he?  "  .  .  .  "  Can  that  be  the  new  prophet 
whose  picture  is  in  all  the  papers?"  .  .  .  "What  a 
wonderful  face!"  .  .  .  "Yes,  that's  the  one  who 
raised  the  dead  man  over  at  Fort  Lee."  .  .  .  "What 
a  head  for  a  painter!"  .  .  .  "Let  us  follow  him." 
.  .  .  "  They  say  he  calls  himself  the  mouthpiece  of  the 
Spirit."  ..."  He  says  that  God  is  the  power,  and 
that  he  is  the  expression  of  the  power."  .  .  . 
"Strange!"  .  .  .  "How  majestically  he  walks!" 
.  .  .  "Where  is  he  going?"  .  .  .  "The  paper 


422          THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

said  he  had  been  a  carpenter."  ..."  He  looks  more 
like  a  king."  ..."  One  of  the  old  gods  come  to  life 
again,  maybe."  ..."  The  prophet  of  a  new  relig- 
ion." ..."  What  religion  ?  "  .  .  .  "  Something 
about  the  indwelling  Spirit."  ..."  He  prophesies  a 
coming  revolution."  ..."  Political  ?"..."  No, 
spiritual."  ..."  I'll  never  forget  that  face  so  long 
as  I  live."  .  .  .  "What  sadness  and  what  power!" 
.  .  .  These  are  a  few  of  the  innumerable  comments 
that  followed  Jesse's  passage  up  the  avenue. 

The  crowd  behind  him  had  become  large  when  he 
turned  into  a  side-street  and  went  up  the  steps  of  a  closed 
house  with  shuttered  windows. 

"  He  is  going  to  speak  to  us."  ..."  Listen !  " 
.  .  .  "  He  is  going  to  speak  to  us."  The  people  waited, 
pressing  closer  and  closer  toward  the  steps,  round  the  foot 
of  which  stood  the  twelve  men,  that  they  might  guard  their 
Master  from  the  nearer  approach  of  the  crowd. 

Jesse  stood  for  a  moment  looking  down  at  the  uplifted 
faces,  his  own  face  calm  and  sweet  and  full  of  power. 
Then  he  began  to  speak. 

"  Have  you  come  to  listen  to  the  word  of  a  prophet, 
that  you  may  light  your  lamps  at  his  flame?  Or  have  you 
followed  him  to  pass  an  idle  moment?  Whatever  the  mo- 
tive, you  have  followed  him,  though  but  a  little  way,  and 
on  a  sunshiny  morning.  They  who  follow  the  Light  for 
a  long  distance,  through  the  darkness  of  the  night  and  over 
a  hard  road,  in  the  end,  if  they  do  not  falter,  become  them- 
selves the  effulgence  of  that  Light. 

"  Would  you  know  Truth  itself,  the  whole  of  Truth  ? 
It  is  a  blazing  sun,  and  you  may  not  behold  it  from  a 
distance  of  a  million  miles  without  blinding  your  weak 
eyes;  but  by  the  light  and  heat  of  it  you  live,  and  may  see 
little  truths. 

"  Do  you  desire  power?  Look  upon  a  pine-tree  and 
learn  the  secret  of  its  majesty. 

"  Do  you  desire  peace  ?  Seek  for  the  rhythm  that  con- 
trols the  restless  ocean. 

"  Do  you  desire  beauty?  Study  the  scarred  face  of 
humanity. 

"  Does  your  heart  swell  with  pride  when  you  view  your 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          423 

attainments  and  count  them  over?  Then  know  that  you 
have  not  attained. 

"  Does  your  heart  swell  with  pride  when  you  view  your 
worldly  possessions  and  count  them  over?  The  only  pos- 
sessions which  shall  not  be  taken  from  you  are  those  which 
can  neither  be  viewed  nor  counted. 

"  If  you  are  puffed  up  with  the  consciousness  of  knowl- 
edge, know  that  you  are  still  in  the  school  of  ignorance. 
The  man  who  is  truly  wise  is  aware  that  he  knows  little. 
How  many  grains  of  sand  are  there  around  and  under  the 
ocean?  Where  dwells  memory  after  the  dissolution  of  the 
brain?  What  meanings  underlie  the  seemingly  simple  ac- 
tions of  mankind  ? 

"  Look  within  at  your  soul,  at  the  one  whom  you  know 
to  be  yourself;  then  look  out  at  the  many  who  surround 
you,  in  whom  is  also  the  soul.  Do  you  seem  to  be  differ- 
ent from  these  others?  What  seem  to  be  differences  are 
only  the  varying  folds  of  the  veil  of  matter  that  covers 
you  and  them. 

"  My  soul  may  dwell  in  you,  even  as  my  thought  takes 
up  its  abode  within  your  brain.  I  reincarnate  every  time 
I  speak  the  Word  of  Life  to  another  in  such  a  way  that 
he  comprehends  my  meaning. 

"  Separation  is  only  an  illusion.  The  Spirit  is  One,  and 
each  of  us  is  It.  What  seems  to  be  many  is  in  reality  the 
One,  and  what  seems  to  be  one  is  in  reality  many. 

"  Men  speak  of  love,  and  know  not  what  they  mean. 
Love  is  the  heart-perception  of  this  unity.  You  cannot 
hate,  or  sin,  or  doubt,  or  be  disloyal  to  another,  without 
hurting  me;  nor  can  I  love,  or  labour  for  the  Spirit,  or  be- 
lieve, or  comfort  another,  without  helping  you.  Even  so 
closely  are  the  many  related  through  the  One  which  each 
man  is,. 

"  He  who  does  not  perceive  this  light  of  true  relation 
gropes  his  way  blindly  through  the  maze  of  life;  and 
though  he  may  pick  up  gold  and  honours  by  the  way,  he 
never  finds  the  centre  where  peace  dwells.  He  who  walks 
by  this  light  of  true  relation  perceives  always  the  direction 
to  the  centre,  and  may  lead  others  thither. 

"  A  man  never  becomes  powerfully  self-conscious  until 
he  is  able  to  forget  his  own  existence. 


424          THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL 

"  He  who  shall  harvest  life's  grain  for  himself  alone, 
and  knead  his  flour  with  the  water  of  selfishness,  shall  have 
but  bitter  bread  to  eat. 

"  He  who  finds  the  balance  between  himself  and  others 
is  no  longer  mastered  by  others.  There  is  no  freedom  save 
under  this  law. 

"  There  was  once  a  king  who  ruled  over  a  great  nation, 
and  his  storehouses  were  filled  with  wealth  that  he  had 
taken  from  the  people  by  severe  taxation;  but  so  abundant 
were  their  harvests  that  the  people  questioned  not  the 
king's  demands  for  many  years.  At  last  there  came  a 
year  of  drought,  a  year  when  the  land  itself  became  ex- 
hausted from  too  much  bearing,  and  the  people  wanted 
bread.  Then  they  said  to  the  king:  '  Give  us  of  the 
abundance  in  your  storehouses,  the  surplusage  of  our  many 
years  of  labour,  that  we  and  our  children  may  not  die.' 
But  the  king  would  not,  and  answered  the  people :  '  These 
stores  have  you  yourselves  paid  to  me  without  complaint. 
Why  should  I  now  surrender  them  to  you?  In  years  of 
plenty  you  have  acquired  habits  of  luxury,  and  now  must 
learn  to  be  content  with  less.  Go  work  a  little  harder 
than  before,  and  bring  me  still  my  share  of  what  your 
labour  yields.  Am  I  not  the  king  ? '  Then  the  people 
murmured  among  themselves,  'Would  he  be  king  save  by 
our  long  consent?  A  king  is  only  an  idea,  and  our  chil- 
dren cry  for  bread.'  So  they  declared  the  king  was  no 
more  king,  and  fed  their  children  from  the  nation's  ac- 
cumulated wealth.  For  the  king  had  failed  to  preserve  the 
balance  between  himself  and  others." 

Among  the  many  who  listened  to  Jesse's  words  that 
morning  was  a  prominent  clergyman,  whom  a  powerful 
curiosity  had  made  to  pause  and  stand  in  the  crowded 
street  on  the  way  to  his  own  place  of  aristocratic  worship; 
several  reporters,  who  had  followed  the  new  prophet  in 
search  of  "  copy " ;  and  a  young  multimillionaire  of  wide 
reputation,  whose  absorption  in  the  speaker  was  noted  by 
the  newspapers  the  following  day. 

Jesse  had  been  conscious  of  the  brilliant  dark  eyes  of 
the  young  man  gazing  at  him,  and  when  he  came  down 
from  the  steps  of  the  house,  the  eyes  were  near  his  own. 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          425 

"  I  am  coming  to  see  you  at  the  cottage  of  the  Lanes  at 
nine  o'clock  this  evening,"  said  the  young  man  hurriedly, 
and  in  a  low  tone.  "Will  you  be  there?  " 

"  I  shall  probably  be  there,"  Jesse  answered. 

The  tall  form  disappeared  immediately  through  the 
crowd.  There  was  something  in  the  presence  of  this  ear- 
nest listener,  an  atmosphere  of  conscious  power,  that  marked 
him  out  from  others.  A  moment  later  two  reporters  were 
asking  Jesse: 

"Did  not  young  Needham  speak  with  you?" 

"  A  young  man  spoke  with  me." 

"  But  do  you  not  know  who  he  is?  " 

"  All  men  who  would  learn  of  the  Spirit  are  of  equal 
importance  to  me." 

But  when  they  asked'  what  words  had  passed  between 
him  and  the  multimillionaire,  Jesse  made  no  reply. 

"  Do  the  police  permit  street  meetings  in  New  York 
on  Sunday?"  asked  one  young  man  of  another  in  the 
crowd. 

"  This  preacher  seems  to  have  held  one.  But  he  spoke 
briefly,  and  none  of  the  police  happened  along.  He  is 
going  on  now.  Shall  we  follow  him?  What  a  handsome 
woman  that  is,  she  who  is  walking  with  the  older  one! 
A  convert  of  the  Spirit's,  I  suppose." 

"  Oh,  you  were  always  a  cynic!  Yes,  let  us  follow 
him.  It's  a  rare  sight,  that  of  a  genuine  idealist,  dashing 
his  dream-filled  head  against  the  stone  walls  of  the  world. 
The  man  really  means  what  he  says." 

"  So  do  I,  when  I  say  that  black-haired  woman  is  very 
handsome.  I  will  follow  her,  and  you  may  follow  the 
prophet." 

And  the  two  fashionably-dressed  young  dandies  fell  in 
behind  Jesse. 


CHAPTER   LXVIII 

,  see  the  beautiful  man !  I  want  to  go  with  the 
beautiful  man !  "  cried  every  child  whom  Jesse  passed  that 
morning  on  the  walks  in  Central  Park.  When  he  sat 
down  on  a  bench  under  a  large  budding  tree  at  the  edge 
of  the  common,  the  little  ones  gathered  round  him;  dain- 
tily-dressed children  escaped  from  their  nurses  and  flew 
to  him;  plainly-dressed  children  slipped  their  hands  from 
their  mothers'  clasp  and  tried  to  reach  him.  It  was  a 
sight  to  fill  the  heart  with  love  and  the  eyes  with  tears. 

A  portly  park  officer,  himself  the  father  of  many  little 
ones,  looked  on  and  smiled  indulgently.  The  common  was 
free  ground.  He  had  no  orders  to  forbid  the  children  to 
gather  round  a  man  they  seemed  to  love  instinctively.  The 
officer  read  the  newspapers,  and  he  guessed  at  once  who 
the  stranger  was.  Parting  the  mass  of  heads  with  his  great 
hands,  he  made  his  way  to  the  bench  and  sat  down  be- 
side Jesse,  removing  half  a  dozen  children  to  make  room. 
The  men  and  women  who  had  followed  the  Master  from 
below  stood  on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd  and  watched. 

"They  seem  to  like  you,"  said  the  officer;  then  he 
added,  with  a  flush  of  paternal  pride,  "  I  have  six  of  my 
own." 

"  Then  remember  and  repeat  to  them  this  story,  which 
I  now  tell  the  children  because  they  have  asked  for  one: 

"  There  was  once  a  king's  son,  beautiful  and  young,  and 
heir  to  all  the  riches  and  the  throne  of  his  father.  But 
he  was  sad  and  wistful,  and  only  half  enjoyed  the  pleasures 
of  the  palace,  because  of  a  dream  he  had  had  of  a  land 
more  wonderful  than  any  the  sun  ever  shone  on.  In  the 
land  ruled  over  by  his  father,  the  king,  there  was  unhap- 
piness  and  strife  and  hunger  and  hatred;  the  faces  of  the 
men  and  women  were  care-worn,  and  when  they  laughed, 
the  gaiety  did  not  seem  to  come  from  their  hearts.  But 
in  the  land  he  had  seen  in  dream,  the  land  of  loveliness, 
as  he  had  named  it,  the  people  were  as  beautiful  as  the 

426 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          427 

landscape,  and  it  was  perfect  happiness  merely  to  look  at 
them. 

"  And  when  the  boy  was  old  enough  to  follow  his  own 
will,  he  set  out  with  a  few  chosen  comrades  on  a  journey 
round  the  world,  saying  in  his  heart :  '  I  will  find  the 
land  of  loveliness  somewhere  on  the  great  curve  of  the 
earth,  the  place  where  dwell  the  people  with  the  smiling 
eyes;  and  having  found  it  I  will  nevermore  return  to  the 
land  of  my  birth,  where  there  is  misery  and  strife  and 
hatred,  and  even  laughter  is  mirthless.' 

"  But  though  he  wandered  the  round  world  over,  he 
could  not  find  the  land  of  loveliness,  nor  could  anyone  tell 
him  where  to  look  for  it.  And  everywhere  he  went  he 
saw  uneasy  eyes  and  care-worn  faces.  At  last  he  returned 
to  the  land  of  his  birth,  a  little  older,  a  little  wiser,  but 
still  unsatisfied. 

"  One  day  he  was  sitting  all  alone  in  the  garden  of  the 
palace  and  thinking  wistfully  of  what  he  could  not  find, 
when  he  saw  standing  before  him  a  tall,  majestic  figure. 
It  was  that  of  an  ancient  wise  man  whom  he  had  seen 
three  times  before,  in  childhood. 

"  '  Why  is  the  young  prince  so  sad  ? '  asked  the  wise 
man.  '  Did  he  find  the  world  smaller  than  he  expected, 
or  the  oceans  not  so  wide?  It  is  the  way  of  youth.' 

"Then  the  prince  told  him  about  his  dream  of  the  land 
of  loveliness  and  his  long  search  for  it,  adding,  '  And  I 
shall  never  be  happy  until  I  have  found  my  way  there.' 

"  The  wise  man  smiled.  '  The  land  you  dream  of  is  my 
home,'  he  said. 

1 '  Oh,  take  me  there!  '  cried  the  young  prince,  leaping 
to  his  feet. 

"  But  the  wise  man  shook  his  head.  '  No  man  may  take 
another  to  the  land  of  loveliness,  but  he  may  point  the 
way.' 

"'Where  is  it  found?'  the  prince  asked  eagerly.  'No 
mountain  is  too  high  for  me  to  climb  to  find  it,  no  sea  too 
rough  for  me  to  swim.' 

"  '  The  land  you  dream  of  is  not  found  by  scaling  moun- 
tains nor  by  swimming  seas,'  the  wise  man  answered,  in 
a  gentle  tone.  '  The  land  of  loveliness  is  hidden  in  the 
human  heart,  and  he  who  finds  it  in  his  own,  will  find  it 


428          THE    SON   OF  MARY  BETHEL 

also  in  the  hearts  of  others.  There  dwell  the  people  with 
the  smiling  eyes,  and  it  is  perfect  happiness  to  look  at  them.' 
"  The  young  prince  wept  with  joy,  and  a  great  wave  of 
love  rose  in  his  heart;  for  he  had  found  the  way  to  the 
land  of  loveliness,  and  he  knew  that  he  should  dwell  there 
all  his  life." 

Wide-eyed,  entranced,  the  children  listened  to  the  story 
told  by  the  beautiful  stranger.  They  did  not  really  un- 
derstand it;  but  they  felt  the  loveliness  of  that  land  which 
the  young  prince  found  at  last,  and  they  realised  that  he 
had  somehow  found  it  in  his  heart.  A  score  of  little  hands 
went  seeking  the  place  where  little  hearts  were  beating — • 
beating  very  fast  now  for  the  excitement  of  the  stranger's 
story  and  the  pleasure  of  his  presence. 

And  when  he  arose  to  leave  them,  they  clung  about  him 
so  that  the  big  good-natured  officer  was  obliged  to  aid  the 
mothers  and  the  nurses  in  disengaging  their  clinging  little 
hands. 

It  is  one  thing  to  cure  by  a  word  the  sick  and  suffering 
in  remote  rural  districts  of  whose  very  names  and  places 
on  the  map  the  great  outer  world  has  hardly  heard;  it  is 
quite  another  thing  to  make  similar  cures  of  well-known 
persons  before  one  of  the  largest  churches  of  the  Western 
Hemisphere,  and  under  the  eyes  of  a  group  of  reporters 
from  enterprising  newspapers.  The  scene  which  Jesse 
chose  for  the  first  public  manifestation  of  his  power  in  the 
great  city  was  the  steps  of  the  church  presided  over  by  the 
very  clergyman  who  had  paused  on  his  way  that  morning 
to  listen  to  the  stranger's  words. 

This  minister  during  his  own  sermon,  which  by  the 
seeming  irony  of  chance  was  on  the  need  of  faith  in  mod- 
ern times,  had  broken  the  thread  of  his  carefuly  prepared 
discourse  in  order  to  warn  his  hearers  against  the  disinte- 
grating influence  of  new  and  revolutionary  religious  agi- 
tators, who  without  authority  proclaimed  themselves  the 
instruments  of  God. 

Passing  out  through  the  main  doorway  of  the  church 
a  few  minutes  after  the  services  were  over,  the  minister 
was  surprised  to  find  the  larger  part  of  his  congregation 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          429 

still  lingering  on  the  steps  and  on  the  sidewalk  below; 
but  when  he  saw  the  reason  for  this  unusual  spectacle,  he 
was  astonished. 

"What  is  the  man  doing  here?"  he  demanded  of  one 
of  the  church  ushers,  when  he  saw  Jesse. 

"  Look,"  answered  the  young  man,  excitedly.  "  Do 
you  not  see  Mrs.  Freeman — without  her  crutch  ?  " 

The  clergyman  passed  his  hand  across  his  eyes.  Was 
he  awake?  Old  Mrs.  Freeman,  lame  for  seven  years,  was 
walking  up  the  steps  without  her  crutch!  The  tiny  black- 
robed  figure  of  the  famous  politician's  widow  was  moving 
directly  toward  him.  Her  face  was  flushed  with  excite- 
ment, and  in  her  blue  eyes  was  the  half -humorous,  half- 
malicious  twinkle  he  had  seen  so  often.  She  was  shaking 
hands  with  him  now. 

"  I  think  I  have  heard  you  say  that  the  days  of  miracle 
are  over,  Doctor  Claflin.  Behold — a  miracle !  "  Her 
voice  was  well-controlled,  but  there  was  a  ring  in  it  which 
thrilled  even  him. 

He  opened  his  lips,  but  no  sound  came  from  them. 
Again  he  passed  his  hand  across  his  eyes. 

"  No,  you  are  not  dreaming,  Doctor."  The  little  old 
lady  laughed,  and  put  out  both  her  hands  to  free  herself 
from  the  crowd  of  friends  who  pressed  around  her,  eager, 
questioning,  incredulous.  "  You  are  fully  awake,  and  I 
am  fully  cured.  He  did  it." 

"  But  I  don't  understand.     .     .     ." 

"  No  more  do  I.  But  this  much  is  plain  to  anybody, 
that  I  who  have  been  carried,  or  have  hobbled  on  a  crutch, 
for  seven  years,  now  walk  as  well  as  other  people — rather 
better,  maybe,  considering  my  age." 

"  It  is  certainly  remarkable." 

"  Your  words  are  not  exaggerated,  Doctor  Claflin,"  and 
her  old  eyes  twinkled  again.  "  Will  you  come  and  speak 
with  the  man  who  did  this  thing?  " 

"  Another  time,  maybe — not  now.  But "  he  hesi- 
tated, compromising  with  his  curiosity — "  if  he  would  like 
to  come  and  speak  with  me,  I  will  wait." 

The  old  lady  turned  her  head  to  hide  a  smile,  ostensi- 
bly to  look  at  Jesse,  who  stood  near  the  foot  of  the  steps, 
surrounded  by  a  mass  of  people. 


430          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"  He  seems  rather  occupied  just  now,"  she  said,  turn- 
ing back  to  her  pastor  when  she  had  controlled  the  muscles 
of  her  mouth.  "  I  think  I  will  go  down  again,  and  invite 
him  to  come  home  with  me  to  luncheon." 

But  Jesse  did  not  go  home  to  luncheon  with  Mrs.  Free- 
man. 

"  I  thank  you,"  he  said,  with  his  gentle  and  half-melan- 
choly smile ;  "  but  I  am  going  with  my  friends  to  the  poor 
quarters  of  the  city,  where  also  dwell  the  children  of  the 
Spirit." 

"  But  where  and  when  can  I  see  you  again?  I  want  to 
learn  about — the  Spirit." 

"  I  cannot  say  where  I  shall  be,  even  at  this  hour  to- 
morrow. But  you  will  find  a  way  to  see  me." 

"  I  shall  certainly  find  a  way,"  she  answered.  "  What 
you  have  done  for  me  is  beyond  thanks.  But  what  if  the 
lameness  should  return  ?  " 

"  You  will  never  be  free  from  any  danger  so  long  as 
you  fear  it.  Fear  is  a  dog  that  will  lick  the  hand  of  its 
master." 

She  drew  a  deep  breath,  and  her  eyes  flashed  with 
determination.  He  knew  now  that  her  lameness  would 
never  return. 

"  Oh,  the  freedom  of  it,"  she  exclaimed,  "  after  the 
slavery  of  the  crutch!" 

He  said  to  her  and  to  the  others  around  him: 

"  No  one  is  so  free  as  the  slave  who  has  achieved  free- 
dom. No  one  is  so  weary  as  the  man  who  does  nothing. 
No  one  is  so  strong  as  he  who  has  conquered  weakness." 

The  Reverend  Doctor  Claflin  walked  slowly  up  Fifth 
Avenue.  The  dove  of  peace,  a  favourite  metaphor  of  his, 
was  not  spreading  its  whit^e  wings  above  his  soul.  He 
sincerely  believed  himself  to  be  a  good  man,  a  faithful 
if  not  an  humble  servant  of  the  Lord;  and  he  would  have 
been  truly  glad  at  the  deliverance  of  his  old  friend  Mrs. 
Freeman  from  her  long  affliction — had  he  not  been  obliged 
to  acknowledge  the  means  of  that  deliverance.  That  an 
"  itinerant  preacher,"  as  he  called  him,  a  carpenter  and  the 
son  of  a  carpenter,  should  have  stationed  himself  at  the 
entrance  of  his  church,  and  by  the  power  of  personality  and 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          431 

notoriety  (we  would  not  call  it  fame)  held  the  larger  part 
of  his  own  cold  and  elegant  congregation  standing  on  the 
steps,  like  a  crowd  of  common  people  at  a  street  meet- 
ing; and,  by  some  mysterious  and  possibly  dangerous  means, 
performed  what  certainly  looked  like  a  miracle  of  healing 
on  one  of  the  most  important  members  of  his  flock  (most 
important  from  the  standpoint  of  the  newspapers  because 
of  her  dead  husband's  former  popularity)  was  disconcert- 
ing to  the  dove  of  peace  which  was  wont  to  hover  over  the 
soul  of  the  Reverend  Doctor  Claflin.  What  attitude 
would  the  public  and  his  own  congregation  expect  him  to 
take  in  the  matter?  What  would  the  papers  say  in  the 
morning?  Would  they  send  reporters  to  interview  him? 
He  shuddered  at  the  thought. 


CHAPTER  LXIX 

IT  was  Sunday  afternoon  in  Rag  Alley.  Not  by  any 
appreciable  degree  of  quiet  would  one  have  known  it  was 
the  first  day;  rather  the  reverse,  for  most  of  the  dwellers 
here  worked  somewhere  else  on  week-days,  when  they  could 
find  work  to  do,  as  the  more  preferable  alternative  to  starv- 
ing. Many  did  both,  by  turns,  depending  on  their  luck 
or  skill  in  securing  and  keeping  remunerative  jobs.  Many 
others  made  no  pretence  of  working,  finding  the  way  of  the 
beggar  or  the  thief  the  way  of  least  resistance. 

On  week-day  afternoons,  when  the  weather  was  warm 
enough  for  open  windows  or  to  lure  the  people  out  of 
doors,  Rag  Alley  resounded  with  the  cries  of  innumerable 
children,  crying,  playing  or  fighting,  and  the  strident  voices 
of  women,  gossiping,  scolding  or  fighting;  but  on  pleasant 
Sunday  afternoons  these  sounds  were  mixed  with  the  deeper 
voices  of  men,  swearing,  arguing  or  fighting.  And  though 
the  neighbouring  saloons  were  closed  on  Sunday,  more  or 
less,  the  sobriety  of  a  legally  enforced  abstinence  did  not 
lie  heavily  upon  the  dwellers  in  Rag  Alley. 

On  that  warm  afternoon  in  early  spring  the  multitudes 
that  inhabited  this  one  of  the  many  dumping-grounds  of 
the  great  city's  refuse — this  garbage-barrel  of  civic  house- 
keeping, if  one  prefers  that  figure — were  mostly  sitting, 
standing  or  sprawling  on  tumble-down  door-steps  and  lit- 
tered pavements.  Even  to  Rag  Alley  spring  comes  once  a 
year,  and  though  the  people  do  not  compose  lyrics  in  its 
praise,  or  look  for  early  violets  between  the  paving-stones, 
yet  they  enjoy  it  after  their  fashion,  and  go  out  to  meet  it — 
not  in  festal  array,  but  in  their  shirt-sleeves,  mostly 
coloured.  Sometimes  even  a  snatch  of  pure  song  will  rise 
above  the  din  of  the  Alley's  profane  life,  and  hover  like  a 
butterfly  above  a  cesspool,  telling  the  listening  sky  that 
down  there  somewhere  a  soul  is  trying  for  a  moment  to 
spread  its  wings.  But  most  of  the  songs  heard  in  Rag 
Alley  would  never  be  mistaken,  by  even  the  most  placid 
sky,  for  the  timid  soarings  of  a  soul. 

432 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          433 

The  sun  was  midway  between  the  zenith  and  the  irregu- 
lar western  horizon  of  roofs  and  chimney-pots,  when  the 
peculiar  form  of  Sabbath  calm  that  distinguished  the  Alley 
was  interrupted  by  the  appearance  of  a  large  party  of 
respectable-looking  strangers,  many  men  and  a  few  women. 
At  the  head  of  the  company  walked  a  man  such  as  the 
dwellers  in  the  Alley  had  never  before  seen.  It  was  Jesse. 
His  head  was  bared  to  the  golden  sunshine,  and  the  look  of 
pity  on  his  face  did  not  shame  or  humble  those  unfortunate 
souls  who  faced  it.  His  was  the  pity  that  exalts  the  object 
through  recognition  of  brotherhood.  And  though  the 
dwellers  in  the  world's  alleys  are  vaguely  conscious  of  a 
bitter  grudge  against  the  universe,  they  are  not  conscious 
of  how  pitiable  they  are. 

The  comments  of  Rag  Alley  on  the  appearance  of  Jesse 
varied  somewhat  from  the  comments  of  Fifth  Avenue: 

"  Hi,  see  de  bloke  at  de  head  o'  de  prussession !  "     .     . 

"Gee!  what  a  phiz!"     .      .      .     "  What's  he  doin'  here?  " 

. .     „      ,     "Say,  Mike,  dat's  de  feller  what's  got  his  pictur 

in  de  papers."      ..."  Sure."      ..."  Hully 

smoke!     See  dat  hair.     Yer  c'd  pawn  it  fer  eighteen  carat 

gold."      ..."  Shut   up,    Susie,   or   I'll   pawn  you." 

.     "  Der  man  what  raises  de  dead."     ..."  Git 

out!"     .       .       .      "Fact.     Don'  ye  read  ther  papers?" 

"  Lookut    'im."      ..."  Say,    he's    outa 

sight!"     .      .      .     "Gwan!    he's   only   another   parson!" 

'  'Tain't  no  sech  thing.     He  ain't  no  parson." 

.      .      .     "Den  what  is  he?"     .      .      .     "  Search  me." 

"  T'row  'em  out.     We  don't  want  no  slummin' 

parties."      ..."  Shut    up!      He    ain't    slummin'." 

.     "  Look  at  'im  smile !  "     .      .      .     "  Say,  I  never 

seen  nobody  what  looked  like  'im."     ..."  Eyes  like 

a  young  mudder  wid  'er  first  brat."     ..."  Ain't  he 

goin'  ter    preach?"     .      .      .     "Preach?       What    fer?" 

"  We    don'    want    no    preachin'."       .       . 
"  Shet  up.     We  do."     ..."  Free  show."     .      .      . 
"G'wan,    Mister."      .       .       .      "Speak   up."      .       .       . 
"We  don'  want  no  preachin."     ..."  Shet  up,  yous! 
He  shall  preach."     ..."  Say,  we're  listenin'." 

Jesse  raised  his  hand  for  silence,  and  was  answered  by 
what  passed  for  silence  in  Rag  Alley.  Then  he  began  to 


434          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

speak  to  them,  a  talk  broken  into  many  fragments  by  the 
assenting,  questioning  or  objecting  comments  of  his  listeners. 
He  spoke  slowly,  that  the  meaning  of  each  word  might  have 
time  to  penetrate  the  tough  rind  of  their  consciousness  and 
find  the  core  within. 

"  From  the  eyes  of  every  man  and  woman,  God  looks  at 
me.  For  God  dwells  in  every  man  and  woman.  And 
what  is  God?  He  is  the  Spirit.  He  is  one,  and  he  is 
many.  As  you  are  His,  so  also  is  He  yours.  Your  bodies 
are  His  body,  His  soul  is  your  soul,  His  goodness  is  your 
goodness.  You  cannot  hurt  another  without  hurting  Him. 
You  cannot  love  another  without  loving  Him.  He  is  the 
child  you  tend  and  feed;  He  is  the  friend  who  helps  you 
in  your  time  of  trouble." 

"Gee,   Mary!     So  little  Mikie's  God,   is  he?     That's 
great!"      .      .      .      "I  think  he's  guyin'  us."      .      .     ,; 
"  Shet   up!     Ho  means  jest  what   he   says." 
"  Gee !     So  you  all  is  God !  "     .      .      .     "  And  me,  too  ?  " 

"  On  de  level,  now,  he  means  it." 
"G'wan,  Mister.'; 

"  When  you  give  a  loaf  of  bread  to  one  who  needs  it, 
you  give  bread  to  Him.  When  you  quarrel  with  your 
neighbour,  it  is  He  with  whom  you  quarrel." 

"  Now  hear  dat!  So  I  give  God  a  black  eye  yistiddy!  " 
.  .  .  "Be  still,  thar!"  .  .  . 

"When  you  make  His  name  a  common  oath,  it  is  your- 
self that  you  dishonour.  When  you  befog  your  mind  with 
drink,  you  darken  the  way  in  which  He  must  walk.  Have 
you  thought  evil  of  another?  It  is  He  whom  you  have 
doubted.  Have  you  trusted  another?  Then  have  you 
trusted  God." 

"  Say,  will  God  pay  me  back  that  dollar  I  lent  Flan- 
igan?"  .  .  .  "Not  on  yer  life!"  .  .  .  "Shet 
up,  an'  listen!  He's  goin'  on  fine." 

"^The  God  who  is  both  yourself  and  your  neighbour, 
is  richer  than  you  know.  His  debts  are  always  paid,  some- 
where, sometime.  Eternity  is  not  longer  than  His  memory; 
and  while  He  lives,  can  you.  who  are  Himself,  cease  to 
be?" 

"  Say,  we  don't  want  no  reward  in  heaven  bizness." 
.  ...  ..  "  We  want  somethin'  here  and  now." 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          435 

"  Rag  Alley  ain't  no  heaven."      ..."  What  about 
now?" 

"The  past  was  no  less  real  than  now,  when  you  lived 
in  it;  the  future  will  be  no  less  real  than  now.  In  you  is 
the  God  who  shall  answer  your  own  prayer.  When  you 
learn  how  to  pray  for  something  better  than  your  Alley, 
you  will  find  the  answer  waiting.  Prayer  may  be  a  help- 
less wailing;  prayer  may  be  the  conscious  exercise  of  power. 
The  a-b-c  of  power  is  self-control,  and  to  the  prayer  of 
him  who  knows  the  letters  of  that  alphabet,  God  cannot 
answer  no." 

"  What's  He  givun  us?  "     .      .      .     "  Prayer  and  alpha- 
bets! "     .     .     .     "  Shet  up,  Mike,  or  I'll  break  yer  face." 
.     "  Listen  to  ther  preacher." 

"  Would  you  control  your  own  life  ?  Begin  with  your 
own  thoughts.  Look  for  your  own  weakness.  He  who 
knows  a  man's  weakness  is  his  master.  Be  master  of  your- 
self." 

"Say,  how  about  the  sweat-shop?"  .  .  .  "Whis- 
key's my  weakness,  begob !"..."  Hunger's  mine." 
"  That's  the  man  what  can  raise  the  dead."  .  .  ;.: 
"  He  knows  what  he's  talkin'  about." 

"  There  is  a  sleeping  man  in  every  one  of  you.  Awaken 
him.  Call  your  own  sleeping  souls  to  life.  The  power  is 
yours.  The  healthy  man  is  he  who  never  thinks  of  sickness. 
The  strong  man  is  he  who  knows  that  he  is  strong." 

"That's  so!    I  can  lick  every  man  in  dis  Alley."     . 
"  But  yer  can't  keep  from  drinkin'."     .      .      .     "  I  can, 
begob!" 

"  The  world  will  not  give  you  anything  because  it  loves 
you;  but  the  God  in  you  can  give  you  anything  which  you 
are  wise  enough  to  use." 

"Say,  Mister,  will  He  gimme  a  job  to-morrow?  I 
hain't  worked  fer  a  month.  How'll  I  git  a  job  ?  " 

"  When  you  can  listen  to  the  God  in  your  own  breast, 
you  will  no  longer  need  a  teacher." 

"  When  I  go  to  git  a  job,  I'm  always  afraid  I  won't  git 
it." 

"  The  general  who  fears  to  enter  a  battle  will  never 
conquer  the  enemy.  And  even  the  mob  in  the  street  will 
chase  a  man  whom  it  sees  running  away." 


436          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

The  crowd  gathered  closer  and  closer  about  him.  From 
every  nook  and  cranny  of  the  Alley  they  had  come  out,  to 
see  and  hear  the  man  who  was  so  different  from  them- 
selves, yet  who  aroused  no  feeling  of  distrust.  His  tender, 
pitying  eyes  passed  round  the  sea  of  faces.  Half-human 
faces,  they  were,  many  of  them — some  lean  and  ferocious- 
looking  as  starved  animals,  others  bloated  and  expression- 
less as  jelly-fish  with  drink  and  with  disease,  others  again 
whose  narrow  eyes  were  burning  with  the  malice  of  devils, 
or  leering  like  sub-human,  elemental  things  for  which  the 
language  of  mankind  has  found  no  name. 

"  Help  us!  Oh,  help  us!  "  the  strange  eyes  seemed  to  say. 
"  We  are  the  lost,  the  strayed,  the  hopeless  starvelings  of 
the  House  of.  Life,  for  whom  the  Father's  door  is  never 
open,  the  Mother's  table  never  spread.  We  are  the  ques- 
tion which  no  sage  can  answer,  the  Devil's  clenched  fist 
shaken  in  the  face  of  God." 

When  they  asked  him  what  he  was  going  to  do  for  them, 
he  answered: 

"  I  came  to  raise  your  spirits  from  the  dead ;  but  I  will 
comfort  any  who  are  sick,  and  give  them  of  my  strength." 

Many  of  their  ailing,  feverish  children  he  left  in  a  re- 
freshing slumber,  from  which  they  would  awaken  with 
new  life.  And  the  aroma  of  his  own  spirit  he  left  with 
them,  a  subtle  but  pervading  influence  that  remained  with 
all  for  many  days,  and  remained  with  some  for  ever.  Most 
of  his  words  they  had  only  vaguely  understood;  but  he 
had  told  them  of  the  God  within  themselves,  and  though 
they  made  a  joke  of  it  to  one  another,  they  pondered  the 
matter  in  secret. 

That  night  the  owner  of  Rag  Alley  came  alone  to  Jesse. 
He  came  on  foot,  having  left  his  luxurious  motor  car  at 
the  ferry-station  below,  and  Jesse  received  him  privately  in 
the  room  where  Lawrence  had  lain  in  the  coffin  a  few  days 
before. 

"  I  want  to  do  something  for  your  cause,"  were  the  first 
words  of  the  rich  young  man. 

"  My  cause  is  the  cause  of  humanity,"  Jesse  answered. 
"  The  wise  ones  of  the  past  have  called  it  the  Great  Or- 
phan." 


THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL          437 

"  But  I  know  not  where  to  begin." 

"Then  begin  at  the  centre  and  work  outward;  begin 
under  your  own  roofs." 

"  Why,  I  have  a  thousand  roofs !  I  know  not  what  to 
do." 

"  Examine  those  roofs  and  the  life  that  hives  beneath 
them;  then  examine  your  own  heart,  and  find  yourself  the 
way.  Great  is  your  opportunity." 

"  But  I  am  less  happy  than  many  who  have  nothing." 

"  Can  one  man  deserve  all  blessings?  He  who  has  power 
and  knows  the  way  to  use  it  can  make  that  power  itself 
his  happiness.  I  never  ask  myself  if  I  am  happy." 

"You?"  The  young  man  gazed  at  him  in  wide-eyed 
reverence.  "  Why,"  he  said,  "  I  believe  no  other  man  in 
the  world  has  power  like  yours.  That  is  why  I  am  here. 
What  victories  you  must  have  won — what  spiritual  prizes!" 

"  The  prize  of  every  victory  is  the  right  to  enter  another 
battle,"  Jesse  answered. 

Needham  sat  locking  and  unlocking  his  long  fingers,  as 
if  under  the  stress  of  strong  emotion. 

"  There  was  one  thing  you  said  in  your  sermon  this 
morning  that  has  rung  in  my  ears  all  day :  '  Does  your 
heart  swell  with  pride  as  you  view  your  worldly  possessions 
and  count  them  over?  The  only  possessions  which  shall 
not  be  taken  from  you  are  those  which  can  neither  be 
viewed  nor  counted.'  Will  you  tell  me  of  those  possessions? 
I  want  to  obtain  them." 

Jesse  reached  out  his  hand  and  touched  the  clasped  hands 
of  the  young  man  beside  him. 

"  My  brother,"  he  said,  "  the  way  for  every  soul  is  differ- 
ent, yet  are  they  all  the  same.  For  you,  the  way  to  acquire 
spiritual  possessions  is  to  relinquish  material  possessions." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  I  should  relinquish  everything  I 
have,  or  only  a  part?  " 

"  That  is  for  you  alone  to  determine.  But  for  every 
material  and  personal  right  surrendered  by  the  disciple,  he 
acquires  a  spiritual  privilege." 

The  light  of  enthusiasm  in  the  young  man's  eyes  grew 
clouded  by  anxiety. 

"  But  I  do  not  stand  alone,"  he  said;  "  I  have  so  many 
ties  that  link  me  with  the  world." 


438          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

The  smile  Jesse  gave  him  was  full  of  understanding  and 
of  sympathy,  as  he  answered: 

"The  world  may  be  likened  to  a  great  shop  of  varied 
merchandise,  from  which  a  man  may  choose  whatever  things 
he  is  willing  and  able  to  pay  for.  And  gold  is  not  the  only 
medium  of  exchange." 

"  Then  may  I  not  give  service  in  other  ways,  as  well  as 
with  my  wealth  ?  " 

"  Have  you  any  other  power  that  is  comparable  with  your 
wealth  ?  " 

"  I  have  great  influence." 

"Is  it  the  influence  of  your  wealth,  or  of  yourself?" 

The  young  man  sighed. 

"  I  fear  it  is  not  of  myself,"  he  said. 

"Then  you  have  found  the  answer  to  your  question." 

"  If  I  could  only  get  away  for  a  little  while  from  the 
distractions  of  the  world,"  he  went  on,  "  perhaps  I  would 
be  strong  enough  to  practise  my  own  philosophy." 

"  The  world  is  the  place  to  practise  philosophy,"  was 
Jesse's  answer ;  "  though  solitude  is  sometimes  necessary  for 
the  assimilation  of  experience." 

"  But  how  can  a  man  learn  faith?  I  have  studied  many 
religions,  but  I  have  not  found  the  basic  Law  which  under- 
lies our  life." 

"  Some  men  can  learn  the  Law  only  by  the  study  of 
laws,  and  some  can  learn  Faith  only  by  the  study  of  faiths; 
others,  again,  learn  the  Law  by  studying  Faith,  and  Faith 
by  studying  the  Law." 

"  And  what  is  that  Law?  " 

"It  has  many  names,"  replied  Jesse;  "it  has  been  given 
many  forms  by  those  who  have  glimpsed  it  through  the 
ages;  but  there  is  no  better  symbol  for  it  than  the  balances." 

A  puzzled  look  came  into  the  eyes  of  the  listener. 

"  I  fear  I  do  not  fully  understand,"  he  said.  "  If  the 
law  of  balance  is  what  I  have  sought,  how  shall  I  apoly 
it  to  my  life?  " 

"There  are  many  ways;  but  first  restore  the  balance 
between  yourself  and  the  world.  When  you  have  given  the 
Spirit  as  much  as  the  world  has  given  you,  then  will  you 
be  ready  to  study  the  other  applications  of  the  great  Law. 
That  is  your  first  lesson." 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          439 

"And  if  I  fail?" 

"  Then  you  will  forfeit  the  reward.  But  having  invoked 
the  Spirit,  you  will  find  that  what  you  refuse  to  yield  will- 
ingly, the  Spirit  itself  will  take." 

"  And  may  I  come  to  you  sometimes  for  guidance  and 
advice  ?  " 

The  young  man  did  not  understand  the  look  of  sadness 
which  clouded  Jesse's  eyes,  nor  did  he  understand  his  part- 
ing words — until  some  days  later: 

"When  I  am  not  here  to  advise  you,  listen  to  the  voices 
of  the  winds  and  the  waters,  and  to  the  wise  words  of  little 
hungry  children.  It  may  be  that  they  will  teach  you  more 
than  I." 

Sad  and  unsatisfied,  he  who  had  come  to  the  young  Mas- 
ter alone  and  at  night  descended  the  hill  on  the  way  back 
to  his  own  world,  the  world  which — though  he  could  not 
bring  himself  to  relinquish  it — had  lost  all  beauty  for  him. 


CHAPTER  LXX 

ON  Monday  morning  the  newspapers  made  the  most  of 
Jheir  opportunity.  Sensational  news  had  been  scarce  of 
iate;  the  nations  of  the  world  were  in  a  state  of  peace  that 
was  most  irritating  to  the  press ;  murder,  robbery  and  suicide 
were  at  their  minimum,  and  not  even  a  scandal  of  respect- 
able proportions  had  stirred  the  country  for  days.  So  the 
moulders,  or  reflectors,  of  public  opinion  hailed  the  appear- 
ance of  Jesse  Bethel  and  turned  his  unworldly  mission  to 
their  own  worldly  profit.  The  resurrection  of  Lawrence 
Lane  having  been  exploited  to  the  full,  they  leaped  at  the 
miraculous  cure  of  Mrs.  Freeman's  lameness,  on  the  steps 
of  the  church  of  the  famous  Doctor  Claflin.  In  the  old 
days  when  Mrs.  Freeman's  departed  husband  had  been 
running  for  office  on  the  more  conservative  ticket,  and  the 
less  conservative  party  had  been  sifting  the  chaff  of  his  past 
career  for  kernels  of  disrepute — even  in  the  days  of  the 
political  prominence  of  Freeman,  the  name  was  not  more 
conspicuously  placed  in  the  newspapers  than  on  that  Mon- 
day morning.  Interviews  with  the  witty  old  lady  appeared 
in  every  journal,  and  those  who  knew  her  recognised  the 
quoted  words  as  being  in  her  own  characteristic  style.  Even 
her  enthusiasm  for  the  new  prophet  was  expressed  in  terms 
of  quaint,  half-serious  hyperbole.  One  saying  of  hers, 
"  His  glance  was  so  exalting,  that  my  lame  foot  spurned 
the  earth  and  carried  me  with  it  up  the  steps  of  God's 
house,"  was  prominently  placed  in  every  paper. 

Another  interview,  with  the  Reverend  Doctor  Claflin,  who 
had  been  an  unwilling  witness  for  the  truth  of  the  occur- 
rence, was  printed  next  to  that  of  Mrs.  Freeman,  and  by  the 
very  darkness  of  its  laboured  impartiality  made  hers  ap- 
pear more  highly-coloured  and  extravagant.  It  was  as  care- 
fully worded  as  his  famous  printed  sermon  on  the  text 
of  Proberbs,  XXVIII,  19:  "  He  that  tilleth  his  land  shall 
have  plenty  of  bread:  but  he  that  followeth  after  vain 
persons  shall  have  poverty  enough."  When  asked  by  a 
persistent  reporter  to  give  an  opinion  as  to  the  means  by 

440 


THE    SON   OF   MARY  BETHEL          441 

which  the  wonder  was  accomplished,  he  answered  with  a 
quotation,  again  from  Proverbs:  "  It  is  the  glory  of  God 
to  conceal  a  thing:  but  the  honour  of  kings  is  to  search 
out  a  matter."  Doctor  Claflin  was  noted  among  his  fel- 
low clergymen  for  having  the  Scriptures  at  his  tongue's 
end.  "Then  do  you  intend  to  search  out  this  matter?" 
the  interviewer  asked.  And  the  interviewed  was  quoted  as 
replying,  with  an  agitated  manner  which  perhaps  accounted 
for  the  somewhat  cloudy  metaphor:  "A  clergyman  is  the 
king  of  his  flock,  and  must  search  out  whatever  threatens 
it." 

There  were  no  editorials  on  this  second  incident;  the 
minds  behind  the  presses  were  quietly  awaiting  develop- 
ments before  committing  themselves  further. 

That  afternoon  the  large  Sunday-school  room  of  Doctor 
Claflin's  church  was  brilliantly  illuminated  with  artificial 
light  and  filled  with  fashionably  attired  men  and  women 
and  many  children.  It  was  the  occasion  of  the  annual 
spring  fair,  depended  on  to  replenish  the  coffers  of  the  Sun- 
day-school and  to  help  in  carrying  on  the  work  of  one  or 
two  of  the  much-advertised  charities  of  the  church.  Every- 
where were  booths  and  tables  decorated  with  gay  colours 
and  laden  with  wares  for  sale  or  raffle,  each  booth  and 
table  in  the  care  of  one  or  more  beautiful  young  women 
whose  duties  were  to  extract  every  possible  dollar  from 
every  possible  purse. 

Twenty-five  cent  bunches  of  violets  sold  for  a  dollar; 
photographs  of  popular  actresses  sold  for  the  price  of 
orchestra  chairs  at  their  performances;  boxes  of  confection- 
ery went  for  figures  that  would  soon  have  made  the  for- 
tune of  any  secular  dealer;  at  the  Oriental  booth  the 
charges  would  have  brought  a  blush  to  the  cheek  of  a  bar- 
gaining Turk  of  Stamboul ;  and  at  the  "  refreshment  tables  " 
hungry  or  thirsty  visitors  might  regale  themselves  on  vari- 
coloured ice-creams  and  cakes  and  innocent  drinks,  for  sums 
of  money  that  would  keep  the  dark-skinned  beneficiaries  of 
the  church's  favourite  mission  in  rice  and  curry  through  a 
protracted  period  of  famine. 

But  the  raffles  offered  real  bargains — provided  the  in- 
vestor won  the  prize,  and  there  was  an  equal  chance  for 


442          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

all.  For  a  few  dollars  one  might  win  a  good  red  motor 
car,  if  luck  were  with  him,  and  "  luck  "  is  the  watchword 
of  those  who  sell  chances  in  raffles.  For  a  single  dollar 
one  might  possibly  become  the  owner  of  a  Persian  prayer- 
rug  to  make  comfortable  the  orisons  of  generations;  and 
also  for  that  trifling  sum  a  speculative  woman  had  one 
chance  in  fifty  of  wearing  on  her  head  a  fanciful  creation 
of  lace  and  feathers  which  hid  within  its  crown  a  famous 
Paris  name,  more  magical  in  its  effect  on  modern  feminin- 
ity than  the  potent  abracadabra  on  the  philosophers  of  olden 
time.  For  those  who  had  no  need  of  motor  cars,  prayer- 
rugs  or  bonnets,  there  were  other  and  equally  seductive  op- 
portunities for  invoking  the  favour  of  the  tutelary  deity  of 
church  fair  patrons — the  fascinating  god  called  Chance. 

It  was  about  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  open- 
ing glories  of  the  fair  were  at  their  height,  and  the  walls  of 
the  Sunday-school  room  were  ringing  with  laughter  and 
chatter,  that  a  sudden  lessening  of  the  noise,  a  silence  round 
the  door,  made  those  at  a  distance  crane  their  necks  to  see 
what  person  of  distinction  was  entering — to  see  who  could 
be  so  distinguished  as  to  silence,  even  for  a  moment,  the 
babble  and  the  laughter  of  the  fair.  In  another  breath,  a 
quick  murmur  ran  round  the  room. 

"  Oh,  look!  "  .  .  .  "  It's  the  new  prophet,  the  man 
who  made  Mrs.  Freeman  walk."  .  .  .  "  He  who 
raised  the  dead  man  at  Fort  Lee."  ..."  And  what  a 
band  of  followers !"..."  What  is  he  doing  here  ?  " 
.  .  .  "  There's  Mrs.  Freeman,  over  by  the  door."  .  . 
"  She's  speaking  to  him."  ..."  What  a  gentle  smile 
he  has!"  .  .  .  "But  he  could  be  stern,  though."" 
.  .  .  "  Let's  make  him  buy  our  violets."  ..."  Oh, 
no,  no,  you  mustn't !"  .  .  .  "  Why  not,  pray?  "  .  . 
"  Because  he's  different— I  can't  tell  why."  ..."  Oh, 
he's  coming  this  way!  " 

Jesse  paused  before  the  flower-booth,  where  several  young 
ladies  were  standing,  among  them  the  one  who  had  advised 
the  others  not  to  sell  him  violets — and  none  were  offered 
him.  The  girl  waited,  shyly,  for  him  to  speak,  looking  up 
at  his  face  with  half-frightened  eyes. 

He  touched  one  of  the  red  roses  on  the  table. 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          443 

"  Are  these  beautiful  flowers,  which  seem  to  exhale  the 
very  sweetness  of  the  Spirit,  to  be  offered  upon  the  altar?  " 
he  asked. 

"  They  are  for  sale,"  she  answered. 

"  The  perfume  of  the  Spirit  should  not  be  made  mer- 
chandise— and  in  the  Spirit's  house." 

His  tone  was  gentle,  almost  caressing  in  its  sj7mpathy; 
but  the  rebuke  within  the  words  sought  out  and  found  the 
sensitive  spot  in  her  young  heart;  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"They  asked  me  to  sell  them,"  she  answered  softly. 

"And  if  I  ask  you  not  to  sell  them?  " 

She  hesitated,  trembling  with  the  unexpected  responsibility 
of  choice  between  the  favour  of  her  pastor  and  the  wish  of 
this  strange  man  whose  eyes  seemed  to  unveil  the.  hidden 
places  of  her  soul.  Silently  he  waited,  full  of  tenderness 
and  pity  for  her  fluttering  will ;  but  there  was  no  wavering 
in  the  purpose  which  shone  in  his  eyes.  Looking  up  at  him 
with  a  child-like  and  pathetic  smile,  she  said: 

"  I  will  not  sell  them,  if  you  say  that  flowers  should  not 
be  sold  in  the  church." 

"  May  the  Spirit  open  your  soul  to  the  beauty  of  Itself, 
my  sister."  And  he  passed  on. 

"  Surely  you  are  not  going  to  leave  the  booth ! "  one  of 
her  companions  expostulated  with  her.  "  You  will  not 
break  your  promise  to  us  ?  " 

"  I  will  not  break  my  promise  to  him." 

The  third  young  lady  in  the  booth  came  forward  to  her 
friend's  defence.  "  Of  course  she  need  not  serve  here,  if 
she  would  rather  not.  We  can  manage  very  well  with- 
out her.  ...  I  don't  blame  you,  child,"  she  added; 
"  I  understand,  and  I  like  you  for  it." 

With  a  whispered  "  Thank  you,"  the  girl  quietly  left  the 
stall  and  joined  a  group  of  friends,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
room.  From  there  she  could  watch  Jesse  as  he  made  the 
circuit  of  the  fair,  followed  by  the  men  and  women  who 
were  helping  him  in  his  work.  Oh,  that  she  were  free  to 
join  them!  But  though  she  was  a  petted  child,  and  could 
leave  a  flower-booth,  she  had  no  real  liberty.  "  May  the 
Spirit  open  your  soul  to  the  beauty  of  Itself,  my  sister." 
The  words  gave  her  that  strange  feeling  of  ecstasy  which 
she  had  sometimes  known  when  listening  to  the  music  of 


444          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

great  masters,  only  this  new  feeling  was  more  intense,  and 
there  was  another  element  in  it  which  mere  music  had  never 
given  her — a  consciousness  of  "  the  everlasting  arms  "  be- 
neath her.  Was  it  thus  the  Spirit  opened  the  soul  to  the 
beauty  of  Itself?  she  wondered. 

Jesse  stood  at  the  table  behind  which  the  Persian  rug 
was  exhibited  on  the  wall  and  chances  on  it  were  offered 
for  the  raffle.  The  young  woman  who  had  charge  of  this 
department  was  not  of  the  same  sensitive  type  as  the  girl  at 
the  flower-booth;  she  had  a  bright  and  rather  hard  face, 
and  when  Jesse  paused  and  seemed  to  examine  the  rug,  she 
offered  to  sell  him  a  chance  on  it,  mentioning  the  devout 
purpose  for  which  it  was  originally  intended. 

"  A  prayer-rug,"  he  repeated.  "  But  those  whose  prayers 
reach  highest  bruise  their  knees  upon  the  rocks  of  supplica- 
tion." 

"  It  will  not  be  thus  with  the  one  who  wins  this  rug," 
she  answered,  with  a  twinkle  of  amusement  in  her  bright 
black  eyes.  She  knew  who  he  was,  and  it  was  out  of  sheer 
bravado  that  she  had  asked  him  to  take  a  chance  in  the 
raffle.  Looking  beyond  him  at  that  moment,  she  encoun- 
tered the  steady  gaze  of  Peter  Bond,  who  read  her  as  an 
artless  man  may  sometimes  read  an  artificial  woman.  When 
she  turned  her  eyes  back  to  Jesse's  face  their  expression  was 
less  self-confident,  but  her  chin  went  up  ever  so  little. 

"  I  truly  believe,"  he  answered,  "  that  he  who  wins  this 
prayer-rug  will  not  bruise  his  knees  upon  the  stones  of  sup- 
plication, nor  will  he  mar  the  beauty  of  the  fabric  by  peni- 
tential beatings  of  his  head  upon  the  ground." 

The  young  woman  laughed  from  sheer  nervousness,  but 
made  no  reply.  She  was  beginning  to  wish  herself  well  out 
of  the  encounter. 

"  And  the  profits  of  this  sacred  enterprise  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh !  They  are  divided  between  the  Sunday-school  and 
foreign  missions,  I  believe ;  though  I  really  don't  know  much 
about  it." 

"  And  this  gambling  is  done  in  the  name  of  God  and  of 
religion  ?  " 

"Why — er "  she  stammered,  not  knowing  what  to 

answer. 

"  This  morning  I  was  in  the  stock  exchange,"  he  went  on. 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          445 

"  I  did  not  reprove  the  gamblers  there,  because  those  wolves 
yelp  like  the  wolves  they  are.  But  you  I  do  reprove,  though 
you  are  only  a  decoy,  and  bleat  so  prettily  to  lure  the  ;  ass- 
ing  sheep.  They  who  turn  the  house  of  faith  into  a  j  am- 
bling-hall and  a  market-place  are  worse,  because  less  honest, 
than  they  who  frankly  seek  their  prey  in  the  open,  with  no 
pious  pretence  or  pretty  lamb-like  bleatings." 

The  face  of  the  young  woman  was  scarlet;  but  under  her 
anger  burned  a  fiery  admiration  for  the  splendid  courage  of 
the  man.  And  he  was  right — her  quick  brain  told  her  that. 
But  she  came  of  a  race  of  fighters,  and  she  faced  him  with 
clear  eyes  and  quivering  lips. 

"  How  dare  you!  "  she  half-whispered. 

"  How  dare  you  desecrate  the  house  of  God?  " 

For  the  space  of  ten  heart-beats  they  stood  eye  to  eye, 
spirit  challenging  and  defying  spirit.  Then,  in  a  tone  of 
womanly  submission,  she  said : 

"They  must  find  someone  else  to  carry  •on  their  raffle;  I 
shall  do  it  no  more." 

"  I  thank  you."  He  put  out  his  hand  and  she  laid  hers  in 
it,  in  token  of  compact.  Then  he  turned  to  Mary  Magnus, 
who  was  among  those  who  followed  him. 

"  Our  new  friend  would  like  to  know  more  of  me  and  of 
my  work.  Will  you  instruct  her?"  Then  he  passed  on, 
leaving  the  two  women  together. 

Among  those  who  witnessed  the  occurrence  was  the  Rev- 
erend Doctor  Claflin.  He  had  seen  the  entrance  of  Jesse 
and  his  friends,  and  had  quietly  made  his  way  to  a  point 
which  the  strangers  would  have  to  pass  in  going  around 
the  room.  He  would  have  asked  him  to  leave  the  church 
if  he  had  dared;  but  the  fair  was  open  to  the  public,  and 
he  could  find  no  plausible  excuse  immediately  to  get  rid 
of  one  whom  he  felt  to  be  an  intruder.  He  had  just  been 
told  of  the  incident  of  the  flower-booth  when  he  witnessed 
the  incident  before  the  Persian  rug,  and  he  felt  the  moment 
had  come  to  interpose  an  objection.  Surely  this  was  a  duty 
which  could  be  delegated  to  no  person  lesser  than  himself. 
Walking  up  to  Jesse,  he  stated  his  name  and  position  in  the 
church,  adding: 

"  I  am  forced  to  request  that  you  do  not  further  inter- 
fere with  the  business  of  our  fair." 


446          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

In  the  same  gentle  voice  he  had  used  with  the  two  women, 
Jesse  answered: 

"  I  did  not  know  that  faith  had  become  a  commercial 
business.  If  that  is  so,  then  has  the  world  need  of  a  new 
and  purer  faith." 

"  Of  which  you  hope  to  be  the  prophet,  I  suppose." 

"  He  who  proclaims  the  truth  for  its  own  sake,  asks  no 
reward  of  men." 

"  But  even  you  will  possibly  admit  that  in  the  world  as 
constituted  at  the  present  day,  faith  needs  must  be  sustained 
with  bread  and  meat,"  the  minister  protested. 

"  You  cannot  buy  the  bread  of  Jupiter  with  the  coin  of 
Mars,"  was  Jesse's  answer. 

"  I  feel  that  a  minister  of  God  cannot  ask  any  orderly 
person  to  leave  his  church,"  Doctor  Claflin  said,  with  rising 
colour;  "  but  I  also  feel  that  you  are  out  of  place  here." 

"  My  place,"  replied  Jesse  quietly,  "  is  in  any  public  as- 
sembly where  men  and  women  are  willing  to  listen  to  the 
message  which  I  came  into  the  world  to  deliver." 

At  that  moment  a  crowd  of  children  who  had  been 
gathering  about  Jesse  and  restraining  their  desire  to  touch 
him,  suddenly  rushed  forward  with  little  hands  outstretched 
and  faces  tremulous  with  eagerness.  One  of  them  had  seen 
him  in  the  Park  the  day  before,  and  had  told  the  others  that 
he  was  "  the  beautiful  man  who  told  us  stories  and  made 
the  policeman's  eyes  all  shiny." 

"  Oh !  don't  you  remember  me,  beautiful  man  ? "  the 
girl-child  cried,  with  little  gasps  of  joy.  "  I  sat  on  your 
knee  Sunday  morning,  when  you  told  us  about  the  king's 
son  who  found  the  land  of  loveliness  right  down  in  his  own 
heart" 

"Yes,  I  remember  you,  dear  child." 

"And,  Oh!  beautiful  man,  these  are  my  friends — we  go 
to  Sunday-school  together — and  won't  you  tell  them  the 
story  of  the  land  of  loveliness?  You  can  sit  right  here  in 
this  big  chair  .  .  .  that's  only  a  price-card  in  the  seat, 
and  we'll  put  it  on  the  floor  underneath  just  for  now.  .  . 
Oh,  do!  And  I'll  sit  on  your  knee  again,  like  I  did  yester- 
day, and  Bobbie  can  sit  on  the  other  knee.  Bobbie's  my 
cousin,  you  know,  and  I've  told  him  all  about  you.  '  There 
was  once  a  king's  son  '  .  .  .  you  see  I  remember  how  it 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          447 

begins.  .  .  .  '  There  was  once  a  king's  son  '  .  .  . 
Go  on,  beautiful  man,"  and  the  child  settled  herself  on  his 
knee,  gazing  into  his  face  with  rapt,  adoring  eyes,  while 
all  the  other  children  gathered  round  in  quivering  expect- 
ancy. 

So  Jesse  told  the  story  all  over  again.  And  when  it  was 
ended  he  told  them  another,  about  a  little  girl  who  loved 
the  moon  so  much  that  she  wanted  to  fly  away  and  live 
there,  and  was  not  contented  in  her  earthly  home ;  but  when 
one  night  she  saw  the  moon  reflected  in  her  mother's  eyes 
— two  beautiful  golden  moons  instead  of  one — she  was  happy 
to  stay  at  home,  and  desired  no  more  to  fly  away  through 
the  air,  because  there  was  twice  as  much  moon-beauty  on 
the  earth  as  in  the  sky,  if  one  only  knew  just  how  to  look 
for  it  in  a  pair  of  loving  eyes. 

"  Who  are  you,  beautiful  man  ?  "  the  little  girl  demanded. 
"  Oh !  tell  us  who  you  are  and  where  you  came  from." 

"  I  am  the  messenger  of  the  Spirit,  and  I  came  from  the 
home  of  the  Spirit,  to  which  I  shall  soon  return." 

"  Oh!  I  know  what  a  messenger  is,"  she  cried.  "  A  mes- 
senger is  one  that  brings  us  something.  What  do  you 
bring  us,  beautiful  man  ?  " 

"  I  bring  the  spirit  of  Love,  and  the  love  of  the  Spirit." 

Jesse  now  rose  from  the  chair,  but  no  one  thought  to  re- 
place the  price-mark  which  had  been  removed  by  the  chil- 
dren to  provide  a  place  for  him. 

"  Don't  go  away,  messenger  of  the  Spirit,"  a  score  of 
little  ones  pleaded.  "  We  want  you  to  stay  with  us  al- 
ways, messenger  of  the  Spirit." 

Jesse  turned  now  to  the  bewildered  clergyman,  who  had 
watched  and  listened  to  this  demonstration  of  instinctive 
trust  and  love  on  the  part  of  those  beings  whom  he  was 
wont  to  call  the  lambs  of  his  own  flock. 

"  When  you  are  in  doubt  as  to  the  purpose  of  my  com- 
ing," he  said,  "ask  the  little  children,  for  they  will  never 
forget." 

Then,  followed  by  his  friends,  and  by  many  others,  he 
passed  out  of  the  church. 


CHAPTER   LXXI 

RARE  were  the  hours  when  Andrew  and  Anna  found 
themselves  alone  together.  Their  common  love  for  their 
Master,  which  drew  them  closer  together  in  spirit  than  any 
mere  earthly  tie  could  have  drawn  them,  served,  by  the 
very  nature  of  the  communal  life  they  shared  with  all  his 
followers,  to  hold  them  always  a  little  asunder  in  person. 
They  were  together  almost  always,  alone  together  almost 
never.  So  there  had  grown  up  between  them  a  wordless, 
immaterial  communion  that  was  very  beautiful  and  filled 
their  souls  with  ecstasy;  the  wings  of  their  love  were  al- 
ways quivering  in  expectancy  of  the  flight  they  were  never 
allowed  to  take.  For  nearly  a  year  now  they  had  looked 
into  each  other's  'eyes  across  the  barrier  of  the  Master's 
denial;  and  though  the  prolonged  period  of  trial  had  paled 
their  faces  and  made  thin  their  forms,  yet  had  their  love 
grown  stronger  with  every  passing  day.  Long  months  be- 
fore, Jesse  had  said  to  them :  "  Only  they  who  can  live 
without  love  are  worthy  of  the  perfection  of  love."  And 
they  had  bowed  their  heads  in  acquiescence,  and  had  gone 
on  serving  him. 

But  now,  though  by  no  word  or  look  had  he  given  them 
to  understand  that  there  was  any  change  in  his  intention 
regarding  them,  yet  instinctively  they  knew  it,  and  their 
hearts  were  afraid.  Was  the  Master's  death  to  give  them 
to  each  other?  Though  he  had  warned  them  long  before 
that  he  would  die,  they  had  not  really  believed  until  now 
that  they  could  lose  him.  And  because  they  loved  him  with 
a  vaster  love  than  that  of  man  and  woman,  they  were  now 
almost  afraid  to  look  in  each  other's  eyes. 

After  leaving  the  church  fair  Jesse  turned  his  steps  east- 
ward, and  as  they  passed  the  house  in  the  city  where  his 
mother  and  the  other  women  lodged,  he  said  to  Andrew: 

"  You  may  remain  behind  with  Anna,  while  the  others 
go  with  me  as  far  as  the  ferry.  When  they  return,  you  will 
follow  me  to  the  house  beyond  the  river.  I  have  need  of 

448 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          449 

you  this  night,  so  do  not  fail  to  come — when  my  mother 
and  the  other  women  return." 

Jesse  turned  away,  and  Andrew,  too  surprised  to  respond, 
went  up  the  steps  of  the  house  with  Anna.  Neither  spoke 
a  word  until  they  passed  the  threshold  of  the  sitting-room 
which  the  women  shared  together. 

"  Anna,"  he  said,  as  the  door  closed  between  them  and 
the  outside  world,  "  the  Master  means  to  answer  my  long 
prayer."  His  voice  was  low  and  unsteady. 

Anna  had  walked  to  the  window  and  was  looking  out  at 
the  faces  of  the  passers-by,  touched  by  the  last  rays  of  the 
setting  sun.  When  she  turned  to  him,  he  saw  that  her 
eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"Anna!  Why  are  you  sad?  The  Master  is  good  to  us 
this  day." 

He  put  out  his  hand  timidly,  and  she  laid  hers  in  it. 

"Are  you  not  happy,  Anna,  dear  Anna?  " 

Her  voice  was  so  low  it  was  almost  a  whisper. 

"  The  Master  is  going  to  die.  That  is  why  he  is  so 
kind  to  us.  He  has  told  us  so  before,  but  we  would  not 
believe." 

They  sat  down  side  by  side  on  a  little  sofa  in  the  corner 
of  the  room.  Her  words  had  dazed  the  slower  mind  of  the 
man;  he  looked  at  her  in  a  kind  of  pathetic  wonderment. 
It  was  so  rare  and  marvellous  a  thing  to  be  alone  with  her, 
and  yet  .  .  .  she  said  the  Master  was  going  to  die!  .  . 

Strange  dominance  of  the  personality  of  Jesse!  After 
months  of  keeping  these  lovers  apart  by  the  presence  of  oth- 
ers, when  at  last  he  gave  them  an  hour  alone  together  the 
consciousness  of  some  vague  danger  threatening  him  stood 
like  a  wall  between  them  and  the  joy  which  they  had  earned 
the  right  to  have. 

"  Anna,  the  Master  wants  us  to  be  happy  for  this  one 
little  hour." 

The  sweetness  of  his  presence  was  beginning  to  steal 
over  her ;  though  a  happiness  which  has  been  too  long  delayed 
is  always  slow  in  making  itself  realised.  It  is  as  if  the  soul, 
resigned  at  last  to  gazing  into  vacancy,  is  incredulous  that 
the  angel  visitor  is  really  there.  So  it  was  with  Anna.  And 
only  after  several  minutes  of  utter  silence,  in  which  her 
hand  rested  passively  in  the  hand  of  her  lover,  did  her  sur- 


450          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

prised  soul  gradually  grow  aware  of  the  fulness  of  its  pres- 
ent hour.  Wistfully,  tremulously,  she  looked  into  his  eyes 
and  smiled. 

"  It  seems  too  wonderful  to  be  true  that  he  should  leave 
us  here  together,"  she  said. 

He  laid  his  hand  softly  on  her  hair.  He  was  not  a  cul- 
tured man,  as  the  world  measures  culture;  though  a  year 
of  constant  association  with  the  rarest  and  most  beautiful 
of  human  beings,  Jesse,  had  intensified  his  naturally  delicate 
perceptions.  His  love  for  Anna  had  been  refined  by  denial 
until  it  had  become  a  psychic  passion,  an  emotion  of  the 
soul,  an  ecstasy  for  contemplation  side  by  side  with  the 
Spirit  of  his  Master's  adoration.  Andrew  often,  in  trying 
to  realise  the  Spirit  which  Jesse  had  taught  him  to  pray 
to — the  pervading  Spirit  which  is  God — could  only  attain 
a  consciousness  of  its  beauty  by  thinking  of  it  as  that  hid- 
den, mysterious  and  lovely  presence  dwelling  in  the  soul  of 
Anna  Martin.  The  man  who  finds  his  love  in  his  religion, 
and  his  religion  in  his  love,  will  never  wander  far  from 
either. 

Having  more  to  say  to  one  another  than  could  be  ex- 
pressed in  words,  they  said  almost  nothing  during  their 
golden  hour.  Out  of  the  thousand  images  of  love  with 
which  their  souls  were  full,  which  one  should  they  select 
to  speak  about  now?  So  they  looked  into  each  other's  eyes, 
and  smiled,  and  felt  the  inadequacy  of  human  language. 
Little  love  words,  whose  simple  meaning  ages  of  use  have 
made  infinitely  expressive,  were  all  the  words  they  needed. 

When  at  last  their  lips  met  in  the  perfect  confidence  of 
love,  they  forgot  that  their  Master  had  told  them  he  was 
going  to  die,  forgot  the  long  months  of  their  face-to-face 
separation,  for  the  past  was  lost  in  the  fulness  of  the  pres- 
ent, which  seemed  eternal. 

"  Do  you  know,  dear  Love,  that  this  is  ours  through  all 
our  lives  ?  " 

"  Through  all  our  lives,  dear  Love." 

"  And  that  nothing  shall  part  us  again  ever  more?  " 

"  Nothing  ever  more." 

"The  Master  told  me  once  that  it  would  be  better  for 
us  to  love  each  other  only  in  the  Spirit." 

"  It  seems  to  me  this  is  the  Spirit." 


THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL          451 

"Whenever  I  think  of  the  Spirit,  I  always  think  of  you." 

"And  I  of  you,  dear  heart." 

"  Anna,  you  have  heard  the  Master  speak  of  the  self 
within  and  the  world  without?" 

"  Yes." 

"  One  day  I  heard  him  say  that  if  any  two  join  together 
so  that  they  really  become  as  one,  they  are  both  the  self 
within  and  the  world  without." 

"  So  that  they  really  become  as  one.  ...  It  seems 
like  that  with  us.  Yet  he  would  have  kept  us  apart." 

"  He  will  not  keep  us  apart  any  more,  Anna." 

"  Andrew,  what  is  this  danger  which  is  threatening  the 
Master?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  dear  Love ;  but  I  think  he  believes  that 
his  enemies  will  kill  him." 

"  Why  should  they  kill  him  ?  He  is  so  gentle,  so  harm- 
less, and  his  teachings  are  beautiful  enough  to  change  the 
world." 

"That  is  why  he  is  dangerous  to  those  who  would  keep 
the  world  as  it  is." 

"  But  how  could  anyone  want  the  world  to  remain  as 
it  is,  when  it  might  be  so  much  more  beautiful  ?  " 

"  There  are  those  who  prefer  their  own  selfish  power  to 
the  welfare  of  the  world.  It  is  they  who  are  the  enemies 
of  Jesse." 

"And  what  are  the  Master's  teachings  going  to  do?" 

"  They  are  going  to  revolutionise  the  whole  earth ;  they 
are  going  to  bring  about  the  reign  of  love  and  brotherhood, 
in  the  place  of  selfishness,  and  greed,  and  cruelty,  and  op- 
pression." 

The  eyes  of  the  young  man  blazed  with  the  fire  of  Jesse's 
own  enthusiasm.  After  a  year  of  contact  with  the  flame 
which  he  knew  as  the  Master,  Andrew  believed,  as  did 
most  of  his  fellow  disciples,  that  the  love  and  faith  of  one 
man  could  change  the  consciousness  of  a  world.  Oh,  sub- 
lime illusion,  tenuous  and  seemingly  impossible  dream, 
which  was  destined  to  survive  every  solid  and  material 
structure  of  its  time!  At  long  intervals  in  the  history  of 
the  world  there  arises  such  a  being,  born  to  rekindle  the 
dead  flame  of  faith  in  the  souls  of  men.  And  though  they 
pay  the  price  of  their  lives  for  the  spiritual  grandeur  of 


452          THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL 

the  dream  they  dare  to  dream  and  strive  to  make  a  reality, 
yet  the  dream  survives;  for  neither  gold  nor  granite  is  so 
enduring  as  such  a  dream.  The  memory  of  the  bow  in  the 
cloud,  believed  to  be  God's  covenant  with  Noah,  will  sur- 
vive the  very  rocks  of  Mount  Ararat.  And  in  the  words 
of  Jesse :  "  It  is  worth  while  to  endure  many  storms  for 
the  sake  of  seeing  one  rainbow." 


CHAPTER   LXXII 

JESSE  was  sitting  quietly  after  supper  in  the  little  house 
beyond  the  Palisades.  On  her  favourite  low  stool  at  his 
feet  was  Mary  Lane — Mary  the  dreamer,  while  her  sis- 
ter Martha  and  the  men  were  here  and  there  about  the 
room.  The  girl  could  never  hear  enough  of  Jesse's  words. 
With  wide  eyes  and  bated  breath  she  drank  in  his  teaching, 
her  young,  imaginative  soul  aquiver  with  the  vision  of 
beauty  he  invoked  for  her.  He  could  speak  to  her  even 
as  he  spoke  to  John,  using  images  which  would  have  been 
unintelligible  to  many  of  the  others.  He  said  of  her,  as 
he  had  said  of  John :  "  Only  the  born  mystic  knows  what 
mysticism  is:  to  others  it  is  only  a  vague  word." 

"  Master,"  she  said  to  him  this  evening,  "  you  have 
opened  for  me  the  gate  of  the  spiritual  gardens;  but  I  am 
so  slow  in  learning  my  way  about.  The  beauty  which  I  see 
half  blinds  my  eyes;  I  can  only  grope,  where  I  would  walk 
upright." 

He  smiled  down  at  her. 

"  Be  not  impatient  for  the  flower  of  the  Spirit  to  open. 
Have  you  not  said  that  you  are  immortal?  What  have 
the  immortal  to  do  with  time?" 

"  My  soul  is  not  impatient.  It  is  my  brain,  which 
thinks  more  nobly  than  I  can  live." 

"  Dear  child,  the  brain  is  not  the  Thinker.  The  brain 
is  but  the  tool  the  Thinker  uses  to  carve  his  message  on 
the  eternal  rocks." 

"  But,  Master,  I  am  so  sad  sometimes!  I  dwell  a  little 
while  with  the  beauty  you  reveal  to  me;  then  I  return  to 
the  every-day  world,  where  all  seems  grey." 

He  answered,  "  A  thing  is  what  it  is,  only  in  relation  to 
something  else:  there  could  be  no  mountain  without  the 
contrast  with  the  valley." 

"But  why  is  the  every-day  world  so  grey,  Master?" 

"  The  greyness  is  in  the  eye  which  beholds.  He  who 
sees  no  marvel  in  the  crawling  of  the  earthworm,  will 
vainly  question  the  marvel  of  the  rushing  planets.  To  him 

453 


454          THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

who  finds  no  beauty  in  the  wayside  weed,  the  rose  will 
never  reveal  the  secret  of  her  loveliness." 

"  But  can  I  help  being  saddened  when  I  see  the  shams 
and  falsehoods  of  the  world  ?  " 

"  The  shams  and  falsehoods  which  sadden  you  are  only 
the  broken  reflections  of  some  fragment  of  the  great  Truth." 

"  I  have  often  wondered,"  she  said,  gazing  as  though 
afar  off  into  space,  "  if  I  have  the  true  perception  of  the 
Spirit;  wondered  if  I  see  the  same  God  that  you  see." 

"  The  God  in  you  is  your  God,  and  the  God  in  me  is 
my  God;  but  your  God  and  my  God  are  one — the  One." 

"  And  what  am  I,  Master?  " 

"  You  are  the  thread  whereon  are  strung  the  jewels  of 
your  deeds  and  thoughts  and  feelings.  God  is  the  thread 
whereon  are  strung  the  jewels  of  the  generations  of  men 
and  of  the  stars." 

At  that  moment  Martha,  who  had  gone  to  answer  a 
ring  at  the  door-bell,  returned  to  Jesse's  side. 

"  Master,  there  is  a  stranger  in  the  hall  who  asks  to  see 
you.  He  does  not  wish  to  give  his  name." 

"  Please  tell  him  to  come  in." 

The  man  who  entered  was  about  thirty  years  old,  slen- 
der and  well-dressed,  with  curling  light  hair  and  moustache, 
and  restless  grey  eyes.  He  bowed  before  Jesse  with  elabo- 
rate respect. 

"May  I  be  granted  a  private  interview?"  he  asked, 
with  the  slight  accent  betraying  the  foreigner. 

"  I  have  no  secrets  from  these  friends,"  Jesse  answered. 

The  man  bowed  again.  "  But  what  I  have  to  say  can 
be  said  only  to  you." 

"  I  am  at  the  call  of  all  men  who  seek  the  knowledge 
of  the  Spirit;  and  though  it  is  hidden,  it  is  not  secret.  But 
you  may  come  with  me." 

He  led  the  way  to  the  room  across  the  hall,  where  he 
had  received  the  multimillionaire  the  night  before,  and 
placed  his  visitor  in  the  same  chair  where  young  Needham 
had  sat. 

"  I  have  seen  all  that  has  been  written  about  you  in  the 
papers,"  the  stranger  began,  "  and  I  am  profoundly  inter- 
ested in  your  magical  powers.  I  have  come  to-night  to 
ask  you  to  teach  them  to  me." 


THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL          455 

"Are  you  offering  yourself  as  my  disciple?" 

"  I  would  learn  the  secret  of  your  powers." 

"  But  they  are  not  secret.  I  have  proclaimed  them  from 
the  housetops  for  a  long  time." 

"  Yes,  but  that  is  only  for  the  multitude.  I  would  know 
the  inner,  magical  secrets,  the  secrets  of  miraculous  healing 
and  of  power  over  the  wills  of  men." 

"  Is  then  your  love  so  great  for  all  mankind  that  you 
would  ease  them  of  their  afflictions?  Love  is  the  potent 
drug  I  use,  administered  by  the  hand  of  faith." 

"  I,  too,  would  be  a  miraculous  healer.  I  aspire  to  super- 
human powers." 

The  calm  blue  eyes  of  Jesse  enveloped  and  subdued  the 
restless  eyes  of  the  other. 

;<  The  power  you  seek  comes  only  by  sacrifice,"  he  said. 

"But  I  am  willing  to  sacrifice,"  the  young  man  cried, 
"  I  am  willing  to  pay.  Here !  I  have  brought  five  hun- 
dred dollars  with  me.  Take  them — they  are  yours.  But 
I  expect  for  them  the  secret  of  your  powers." 

Jesse  looked  from  the  young  man's  face  to  the  money 
he  held  out,  and  though  his  lips  smiled  strangely,  yet  his 
eyes  were  sad. 

"  The  price  of  the  powers  of  the  Spirit,"  he  said,  slowly, 
"  five  hundred  dollars — the  price  of  the  powers  of  the 
Spirit!" 

"Is  it  not  enough?  For  two  hundred  I  learned  how 
to  create  illusions  which  have  puzzled  all  the  scientists.  I 
see — it  is  not  enough.  You  must  be  very  great!  But  I  will 
bring  you  more — seven  hundred — yes,  a  thousand — for  I  see 
that  you  are  a  very  great  magician.  I  will  give  you  a 
thousand,  though  it  is  a  large  amount  of  money,  and  I 
shall  expect  for  it  the  secret  of  all  your  powers." 

The  smile  had  now  passed  from  Jesse's  face,  and  only 
the  sadness  remained  in  the  eyes  which  held  the  other's. 

"Poor  man!"  he  murmured,  "poor  deluded  man!  You 
are  offering  me  the  money  you  love  above  all  things,  offer- 
ing it  to  me  in  exchange  for  that  which  I  give  freely — 
freely,  without  price — to  all  mankind." 

"  But  I  do  not  want  to  be  healed;  I  want  to  learn  hew 
to  heal." 

Jesse  had  risen  from  his  chair. 


456         THE   SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"  Though  I  should  tell  you  everything  I  know,"  he  said, 
"you  would  be  no  wiser  than  you  are  now.  They  who 
use  spiritual  powers  for  selfish  purposes  dig  with  their 
own  nails  the  grave  wherein  they  shall  be  buried.  I  send 
you  from  me,  and  forbid  you  ever  to  return,  because,  for 
such  as  you,  the  diamond  gates  of  the  City  of  God  would 
be  only  so  many  carats'  weight,  to  be  bartered  in  the  mar- 
ket." 

Defeated,  but  apparently  unresentful,  the  strange  man 
bowed  again,  more  profoundly  than  on  his  entrance;  but 
his  shifting  eyes  no  longer  met  those  of  Jesse. 

"  I  perceive,"  he  said,  "  that  you  are  one  of  those  whom 
I  am  forced  to  respect — against  my  will.  Good-night." 

The  outer  door  closed  behind  him,  and  Jesse  returned 
to  the  room  where  his  friends  were  awaiting  his  return. 

"Who  was  it,  Master?"  Peter  inquired. 

"  A  swordsman,"  Jesse  answered,  "  who  offered  a  large 
sum  of  money  to  buy  a  blade  he  had  not  the  skill  to 
wield." 

A  few  minutes  later  Jesse  was  seated  with  the  twelve 
men  around  the  bare  table  in  the  dining-room,  and  the 
door  was  closed.  There  were  things  he  had  to  say  to  them, 
and  this  was  the  appointed  hour;  instructions  he  had  to 
give  them,  which  on  this  quiet  night  would  sink  deeper 
into  their  minds  than  if  delivered  amid  the  confusion  of 
the  ensuing  days.  He  sat  at  one  end  of  the  table,  between 
Peter  and  John,  while  at  the  farther  end  sat  Judson, 
Carey,  and  the  other  men  were  ranged  on  both  sides.  For  a 
little  time  they  sat  in  silence,  Jesse  with  his  eyes  closed,  in 
voiceless,  passionate  prayer.  The  perfume  which  the 
woman  disciple  had  poured  upon  his  head  some  days  be- 
fore made  sweet  the  air  around  him.  His  face  was  paler 
than  usual,  and  when  he  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  at 
them  they  were  held  by  the  intensity  of  his  gaze. 

"  Heretofore,"  he  began,  "  you  have  refused  to  believe 
that  the  hour  is  approaching  when  I  shall  be  with  you  no 
longer  in  the  flesh.  But  listen  to  me  now,  and  when  my 
prophecy  is  verified,  remember  all  that  I  shall  have  said  to 
you  this  night. 

"  Though  the  eyes  of  men  no  longer  gaze  upon  me,  yet 


THE   SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          457 

you  and  I  are  one;  and  you  must  carry  on  the  work  I  have 
laid  down.  The  spiritual  future  of  mankind  is  in  your 
hands;  and  though  the  task  I  leave  with  you  is  harder  than 
any  ever  yet  performed  by  the  minds  and  bodies  of  men, 
you  must  not  fail.  Not  only  must  you  know  what  to  do, 
but  you  must  dare  to  do  it,  and  at  the  very  moment  when 
it  should  be  done.  You  must  be  master,  not  only  of  inclina- 
tion, but  of  disinclination.  Remember  that  if  the  sun 
should  pause  to  ask  itself  whether  it  felt  like  rising,  the 
work  of  the  world  would  be  sadly  disarranged." 

"  We  who  have  sacrificed  so  much  already,  will  not  fail 
you  now,"  said  Nathan  Evans,  from  the  other  end  of  the 
table. 

"  You  talk  of  sacrifice,"  Jesse  answered  gravely.  "  But 
what  have  you  really  sacrificed  ?  A  narrow  life  for  a  wider 
and  more  complete  life — one  which  will  write  your  names 
on  the  register  of  immortality.  When  the  time  comes  for 
you  really  to  make  the  Great  Sacrifice,  you  will  not  speak 
of  it  to  anyone." 

"  Oh,  Master!  Is  there  not  some  way  of  setting  back 
the  hour  of  our  trial?  "  It  was  John  who  spoke,  referring 
to  the  prophecy  of  death;  but  Jesse  answered  him: 

"  He  who  would  postpone  any  lesson,  however  difficult, 
is  not  fully  possessed  by  the  desire  for  growth." 

The  austerity  of  all  that  was  implied  in  these  words 
was  like  a  rock  beneath  their  feet.  Jesse  went  on: 

"  To  know  the  Law — even  to  know  there  is  a  Law — 
involves  great  responsibilities  of  obedience:  ignorance  can 
no  longer  be  claimed  as  an  excuse  for  failure. 

"  He  who  refuses  to  follow  the  hard  discipline  that  is 
the  price  of  wisdom,  shall  pay  more  dearly  yet  for  the 
undisciplined  folly  that  seems  to  be  easy  and  free  of  charge." 

The  twelve  men  looked  at  one  another,  each  measuring 
his  own  strength  by  the  firmness  in  the  eye  of  his  neigh- 
bour. 

"  The  scattered  divine  fragments  that  are  humanity  have 
little  knowledge  of  the  power  of  men  united,"  declared 
Jesse,  his  voice  rising  with  the  force  of  his  feeling.  "  If 
you  who  seem  to  be  twelve  could  in  effect  become  one, 
one  in  purpose  and  in  will,  there  is  no  conceivable  limit 
to  the  deeds  you  might  accomplish.  They  are  one  who 


458         THE   SON   OF   MARY   BETHEL 

love  each  other,  who  live  for  each  other  and  for  one  idea. 
As  heart  and  brain  and  hand  and  foot  all  work  together 
for  the  welfare  of  the  individual  man,  whose  parts  they 
are,  so  must  you  work  all  together  for  the  unity  which 
is  the  one  apostle  of  the  Spirit.  For  such  a  work  there 
must  be  absolute  detachment  from  the  world,  with  absolute 
devotion  to  the  world.'  You  can  never  be  really  an  im- 
portant part  of  human  life  until  you  are  outside  of  and  be- 
yond mere  human  life.  You  will  be  persecuted  by  that 
world  you  serve;  but  you  will  exist  only  for  me  and  the 
fulfilment  of  my  mission.  You  will  live  in  the  Eternal, 
not  in  the  things  of  time.  Immeasurable  is  your  responsi- 
bility, for  on  your  shoulders  rests  the  burden  of  my  future. 
Can  you  work  thus  as  one  body  and  one  mind,  which  my 
untrammelled  spirit  can  use? " 

"  We  can,"  they  promised. 

"Then  has  my  power  no  limits;  then  shall  the  desert 
places  of  life  blossom  with  the  roses  of  faith,  and  the  Spirit 
be  redeemed  from  its  long  bondage." 

"  Master,"  they  cried,  speaking  rapidly  one  after  another, 
and  sometimes  two  or  three  together,  their  love  and  admira- 
tion for  him  breaking  through  all  bonds  of  restraint, 
"  Master,  we  give  ourselves  utterly  to  the  work." 
"  We  are  willing  to  renounce  the  world."  ..."  You 
are  our  world."  ..."  There  is  no  task  too  hard  for 
us."  ..."  We  are  indeed  one,  in  your  service."  .  .  . 
"  We  ask  no  greater  blessing  than  to  die  to  ourselves 
that  we  may  live  for  you."  ..."  Make  us  your  hands 
and  feet."  .  .  :.  "Use  us  or  break  us  in  the  service 
of  the  Spirit."  .  :.  .  "Only  let  us  feel  your  living 
presence."  .  .  .  "  We  have  the  faith,  we  have  the 
will."  >-  .  .  "We  will  never  waver,  and  we  cannot 
fail."  ..."  We  are  not  afraid  of  persecution."  . 
.  .  "  We  suffer  all  for  you  with  gladness."  .  .  .  "We 
will  make  the  whole  earth  to  ring  with  your  name."  .  .  . 
"  You  are  the  sun  that  warms  the  planet."  ..."  The 
moon  that  draws  the  tides  of  faith."  .  .  .  "You  are 
the  beloved  of  the  Spirit."  .  .  .  "  The  messenger  of 
God."  .  .  .  "We  will  proclaim  you  until  all  men 
believe." 

In  this  chorus  of  enthusiasm  one  voice  was  heard  less 


THE   SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL         459 

often  than  the  others,  though  in  the  abandon  of  the  moment 
no  one  noticed  this  save  Jesse,  and  he  made  no  reference 
to  it.  But  when  he  spoke  again  it  was  to  address  directly 
the  disciple  at  the  farther  end  of  the  table,  in  tones  of 
melting  tenderness. 

"  Do  you  not  feel,  Judson,  that  he  who  loves  and  serves 
the  Spirit  has  no  need  of  any  earthly  thing?  " 

"  You  have  told  us  so,  Master." 

"  Do  you  not  feel  that  he  who  is  persecuted  for  his 
faith's  sake  is  blessed  among  men  ?  " 

"Of  course,  and  yet — I  think  we  might  preach  the 
truth  in  such  a  way  as  to  avoid  persecution." 

"  Some  things,"  answered  Jesse,  "  are  passively  to  be 
avoided,  and  some  things  are  powerfully  to  be  overcome; 
he  who  knows  the  one  from  the  other  is  fit  to  guide  the 
policies  of  a  nation — or  to  be  a  disciple." 

"  But  is  there  not  a  way  of  compromise  ?  " 

Jesse's  voice  was  still  gentle,  but  there  was  a  strange 
look  in  his  eyes,  and  he  gazed  fixedly  at  Judson,  as  he 
said: 

"Did  you  ever  watch  a  great  tree  in  a  storm?  The 
trunk  moves  not  from  its  deep  place  in  the  ground,  but  the 
branches  bend  a  little,  and  the  leaves  quiver  violently.  In 
the  storm  of  discipleship,  it  is  well  for  a  man  to  know 
\vhether  he  is  the  steady  trunk,  the  bending  branch  or  the 
quivering  leaf." 

The  face  of  Judson  flushed  a  deep  crimson.  He  knew 
the  full  meaning  of  Jesse's  quiet  words;  but  he  made  no 
answer,  and  the  others  were  too  much  absorbed  in  their 
own  feelings  to  consider  the  significance  of  this  brief 
dialogue,  though  later  they  remembered  it.  Nor  did  they 
understand  Jesse's  next  words,  which  were  spoken  in  a  low 
tone,  as  if  to  himself: 

"If  the  teacher  learns  more  from  the  pupil  than  the 
pupil  can  learn  from  the  teacher,  then  is  the  teacher  a  wise 
man.  A  foolish  man  may  teach  a  wise  man  more  than 
the  foolish  one  himself  could  compass  in  ten  lives." 

Then  drawing  a  deep  breath,  and  throwing  back  his 
head  as  if  to  rid  his  mind  of  some  unbearable  weight,  Jesse 
continued : 

"  The  Spirit  has  given  me  to  know  that  there  is  another 


460         THE   SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

who  will  join  you  in  the  future,  a  powerful  one,  a  giant 
in  spirit  and  in  labour.  He  will  make  himself  known  to 
you,  and  when  he  comes  you  are  to  receive  him  in  my 
name." 

"How  shall  we  know  him,  Master?" 

"  You  will  know  him  by  the  power  of  his  presence.  Ask 
me  no  more  now,  for  I  am  weary  and  would  rest. 
But  not  under  a  roof  built  by  man's  hand  would  I  sleep 
this  night.  You  who  are  to  carry  the  burden  of  my  mis- 
sion must  be  indifferent  to  comfort  and  discomfort.  While 
I  am  here  to  shield  you  from  the  imaginary  dangers  of 
changed  habits,  you  will  come  with  me  to  sleep  under  the 
open  sky,  with  a  rock  for  your  pillow.  The  soldier  of 
the  Spirit  must  learn  to  take  his  rest  upon  Nature's  hard 
bed.  I  know  a  spot,  on  the  edge  of  the  Palisades  yonder, 
where  I  would  sleep  under  the  eyes  of  the  stars — the  wise, 
implacable  stars,  that  do  not  waver  in  their  courses  though 
the  heart  of  man  may  break." 

"Sleep  out  of  doors?  So  early  in  the  spring!"  ex- 
claimed the  domestic  Peter,  who,  until  his  sojourn  with 
the  Master  on  the  mountain  during  the  preceding  sum- 
mer, had  always  slept  in  a  comfortable  bed. 

"  The  day  has  been  warm,"  said  Jesse,  "  and  the  night 
is  also  warm;  but  should  you  wake  in  the  chill  of  the  dawn 
and  feel  the  need  of  covering,  wrap  yourself  in  the  double 
garment  of  love  and  faith,  and  remember  that  I  am  near 
you." 


CHAPTER  LXXIII 

ON  Tuesday  morning  the  newspapers  were  again  full 
of  Jesse,  and  it  was  everywhere  announced  that  on  that 
evening  he  would  speak  at  a  great  public  meeting  in  Madi- 
son Square  Garden.  This  meeting  had  been  planned  the 
day  before,  and  all  the  necessary  arrangements  had  been 
made  when  they  left  the  city  the  preceding  afternoon. 

"  He  who  would  write  his  teachings  upon  the  hearts  of 
his  own  time  and  country,  must  use  the  alphabet  of  his 
own  time  and  country;  the  prophet  of  the  twentieth  cen- 
tury in  America  cannot  address  his  hearers  from  the  door 
of  a  bamboo  hut  brought  from  the  shores  of  the  Ganges," 
Jesse  said. 

Such  a  crowd  had  never  before  been  seen  at  a  religious 
meeting  in  New  York.  Not  only  was  the  immense  hall 
filled  to  the  doors  and  .packed  in  every  inch  of  standing- 
room  allowed  by  the  police;  but  the  streets  on  all  sides 
were  a  mass  of  moving  people,  unable  even  to  get  near 
the  entrance  of  the  Garden.  So  great  was  the  attendance 
outside  that  Jesse  sent  Peter,  Andrew,  James  and  John, 
to  speak  to  the  multitudes  in  the  streets  about  the  man  who 
was  himself  addressing  other  multitudes  within  the  build- 
ing. The  four  disciples  were  aflame  with  enthusiasm,  and 
the  declarations  they  made  about  their  Master  astonished 
and  electrified  their  listeners.  They  spoke  as  devotees 
might  speak  of  a  demi-god,  an  Avatar,  a  being  beyond 
humanity,  the  very  incarnation  of  the  Spirit  whom  he 
sought  to  reveal  to  men.  What  he  had  never  said  of  him- 
self, they  said  of  him.  Rising  to  heights  of  prophecy,  they 
declared  that  all  the  religions  of  the  world  would  be  de- 
stroyed to  make  room  for  this  new  faith — the  faith  in  the 
power  of  the  Spirit  and  in  the  power  of  him  who  preached 
the  Spirit.  They  told  of  his  marvellous  cures,  how  on  more 
than  one  occasion  he  had  snatched  a  soul  from  the  very  grip 
of  Death;  they  told  about  the  stilling  of  the  storm  on  the 
lake  near  Capronville.  As  there  were  reporters  from  the 

461 


462          THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL 

newspapers  outside  the  hall  as  well  as  inside,  the  more 
striking  of  these  statements  were  carefully  recorded,  espe- 
cially the  claim  of  divinity  made  for  the  prophet  by  those 
who  spoke  presumably  with  his  authority. 

Inside  the  hall,  the  appearance  of  Jesse  upon  the  stage 
was  greeted  with  a  thunder  of  applause  that  surprised  him. 
For  a  moment  he  was  thrilled  with  hope  and  joy;  then 
came  the  realisation  that  it  was  more  the  wonder-worker 
than  the  messenger  of  spiritual  truth  whom  the  multitudes 
had  come  to  see  and  hear.  But  surely  among  these  thou- 
sands were  many  who  thirsted  for  the  faith  he  had  to  give; 
he  could  feel  their  spirits  yearning  to  him  from  all  sides. 
He  had  never  spoken  in  so  immense  a  building;  but  he 
whose  theatre  had  been  the  open  air,  roofed  by  the  bound- 
less sky,  could  will  that  his  words  should  carry  their  mean- 
ing to  the  remotest  corner  even  of  this  place.  He  seated 
himself  in  the  centre  of  the  stage,  and  around  him  was  a 
great  number  of  his  friends  and  sympathisers. 

Then,  for  the  first  and  only  time  during  his  ministry  in 
the  great  city,  the  choir  which  Mary  had  trained  so  care- 
fully arose  and  sang.  It  was  a  new  song,  composed  by 
the  two  women  a  little  while  before  they  left  Capronville, 
and  the  music  was  the  best  Mary  had  ever  written.  Indeed, 
it  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  not  composed  it,  but  merely 
written  it  down;  that  she  had  listened  while  angelic  beings 
sang  to  her.  There  was  a  piano  on  the  stage  of  the  Gar- 
den, and  Mary  Lane  played  the  accompaniment. 

"  We  have  heard  wild  fountains  falling, 

Heard  the  thrush's  evening  trills, 
We  have  heard  the  thunder  calling 

To  its  mate  among  the  hills; 
But  the  day  we  heard  our  Master 

Whisper  softly,  "Follow  me," 
Then  we  heard  a  music  vaster 

Than  the  organ  of  the  sea. 

"  We  have  seen  the  rainbow  leaning 
On  the  cloud's  recumbent  breast; 
We  have  seen  the  sun-bird  preening 
His  red  feathers  in  the  west; 


THE   SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          463 

We  have  seen  the  dawn,  but  fairer 

Is  the  love  that  leads  us  on — 
Love  for  him,  the  message-bearer 

Of  the  Spirit's  golden  dawn. 

"We  have  felt  the  breezes  blowing 

Over  gardens  full  of  flowers, 
Felt  the  sands  of  pleasure  flowing 

Through  the  fingers  of  the  hours; 
But  we  stormed  the  doors  of  feeling 

When  our  Master's  voice  we  heard, 
And  our  pilgrim  souls  were  kneeling 

Round  the  altar  of  his  word. 

"Evermore  will  spring  remind  us 

We  have  seeds  of  faith  to  sow, 
Evermore  shall  winter  find  us 

Warming  hearts  beneath  the  snow; 
And  the  world  will  follow  after, 

As  we  call  men's  dreams  afar 
With  the  wise  and  mystic  laughter 

Of  the  souls  that  love  the  Star." 

The  singing  surprised  and  delighted  the  listeners.  Had 
there  been  a  brass  band  playing  religious  pieces,  they  would 
have  taken  it  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  waited  patiently 
for  the  music  to  stop  and  the  speaker  to  begin;  but  this 
fresh  and  nai've  expression  in  song  of  a  real  religious  en- 
thusiasm, springing  spontaneously  from  the  child-heart  of 
the  choir,  found  the  child-heart  of  the  audience.  The 
singers  were  called  back,  and  gave  the  first  song  they  had 
made  the  year  before  in  Vergennes, 

"  When  our  mild-eyed  Master  came 
From  the  mountains  of  the  soul." 

Then  Jesse  arose,  and  the  great  audience  was  utterly 
still.  To  those  who  were  near  him  he  did  not  seem  to 
be  speaking  in  a  loud  voice,  yet  his  words  were  audible 
in  every  part  of  the  house. 

"  I  have  been  asked  to  explain  what  I  mean  by  the 
power  of  the  Spirit,"  he  began.  "  Can  you  explain  the 


464          THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL 

perfume  of  a  rose,  the  ecstasy  of  young  motherhood,  the 
glamour  of  the  moonlight?  The  power  of  the  Spirit  is 
a  state  of  consciousness;  when  we  have  reached  that  state 
of  consciousness,  we  are  the  power  of  the  Spirit. 

"  It  cannot  be  explained  to  those  who  know  it  not ;  yet 
one  may  be  led  to  its  dwelling-place,  as  a  child  may  be  led 
by  the  hand  of  an  elder  brother.  The  road  is  precipitous, 
and  many  things  must  be  left  behind  on  the  way.  He  who 
would  climb  the  steep  mountain  of  spiritual  power  can 
carry  with  him  very  little  baggage  from  the  valley. 

"  It  has  been  said  by  men  of  little  understanding  that 
this  faith  is  unfitted  for  those  who  dwell  in  the  world  of 
practical  things;  but  the  ideal  and  the  material  are  like  the 
two  sides  of  one  gold  coin.  Fully  to  possess  one  side  is 
to  possess  the  possibilities  of  both.  He  who  considers  only 
the  material  side  of  life  is  the  least  practical  of  men.  A 
rose  is  not  a  rose  without  the  perfume,  a  man  is  not  a  man 
without  the  perfume  of  the  soul. 

"  The  whole  world  is  a  slave  to  the  tyranny  of  petty 
facts,  the  facts  of  the  purse,  the  facts  of  the  cruel  warfare 
of  every  man  against  every  other  man:  In  the  light  of 
the  One  Truth  these  are  obliterated  as  stars  in  the  light 
of  the  sun. 

"  Learn  to  see  the  poverty  of  apparent  riches,  the  riches 
of  apparent  poverty. 

"  There  are  many  teachers,  but  Truth  is  one ;  it  is  like 
the  moon  which  is  reflected  in  a  myriad  lakes. 

"If  you  know  how  to  look  for  Truth,  you  will  find  the 
symbols  of  it  everywhere,  in  the  simple,  homely  things  of 
the  household,  the  garden  and  the  street,  as  well  as  in  the 
complicated  measures  of  the  dancing  constellations.  He 
who  has  the  eye  for  beauty,  which  is  the  soul  of  truth,  will 
find  it  in  the  coals  upon  his  hearth,  and  even  in  the  bread 
and  meat  which  nourish  him. 

"  Last  night  they  brought  me  for  my  supper  a  bowl  of 
chicken  broth,  and  swimming  on  the  surface  were  in- 
numerable bubbles  of  golden  oil.  It  was  after  dark,  and 
the  swinging  lamp  above  my  head  was  lighted.  I  looked 
.  .  .  and  lo!  In  every  bubble  in  my  bowl  the  flame 
of  the  lamp  was  reflected,  like  the  one  flame  of  the  Spirit 
shining  in  the  hearts  of  the  innumerable  children  of  men.  I 


THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL          465 

asked  myself,  '  Are  the  stars  in  the  sky  above  more  wonder- 
ful than  this?  '  For  size  is  only  relative,  and  the  scale  of 
measurement  is  based  on  the  physical  bulk  of  him  who  does 
the  measuring.  In  the  eyes  of  the  Infinite,  which,  being  in- 
finite, can  have  no  such  standard  of  measurement,  the  light 
reflected  in  the  bubbles  of  my  bowl  is  no  less  wonderful 
than  the  light  of  the  sun  reflected  in  the  planets  which 
swim  in  the  bowl  of  space." 

Not  everyone  in  that  mixed  audience  could  grasp  the 
fulness  of  his  meaning;  but  the  spell  of  his  presence  and 
the  sweetness  of  his  voice  held  even  those  who  wished  no 
good  to  him.  In  the  Garden  that  night  were  many  clergy- 
men, as  well  as  representatives  of  the  various  modern  re- 
ligious cults,  who,  though  they  dreaded  his  influence,  were 
yet  sensitively  alive  to  the  power  of  it.  Could  they  them- 
selves, or  any  combination  of  them,  fill  Madison  Square 
Garden  and  all  the  adjacent  streets?  They  gazed  at  him, 
and  listened. 

"It  is  the  power  of  the  Spirit  which  heals;  it  is  the 
power  of  the  Spirit  which  creates.  All  love  that  is  un- 
selfish, and  therefore  real,  is  an  expression  of  that  power; 
all  labour  performed  as  a  willing  service  is  also  an  ex- 
pression of  that  power.  And  the  feeling  of  pity,  that 
identifies  the  heart  of  the  compassionate  one  with  the  heart 
of  the  sufferer,  is  the  very  fragrance  of  the  Spirit. 

"  But  there  is  a  power  for  evil,  as  well  as  a  power  for 
good.  Men  call  it  the  devil,  but  what  is  it,  really?  Only 
selfishness — the  sense  of  separateness  become  aggressive. 
The  devil  is  only  the  shadow  cast  by  your  self  in  the  sun- 
light of  God.  You  say,  '  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan,' 
whenever  you  turn  your  face  to  the  Light,  which  is  Love. 

"  When  you  raise  your  voice  in  self-defence  or  anger, 
which  is  a  declaration  of  separateness,  you  silence  the  inner 
whisper  of  the  soul,  which  knows  no  separateness. 

"  There  are  two  selves  in  every  man,  the  separate  self 
and  the  non-separate.  The  lower  self  has  free  will  to 
work  in  harmony  with  the  higher,  or  it  may  struggle  against 
it.  The  pain  of  that  struggle  is  called  by  many  names, 
anger,  avarice,  anxiety,  jealousy,  despair,  resentment. 

"  Alms-giving  is  great,  but  forgiveness  of  injury  is 
greater. 


466          THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL 

"  Anger  and  resentment  are  disintegrating  forces,  which 
can  destroy  even  the  link  with  the  soul;  and  love  is  the 
constructing  Spirit,  which  builds  all  souls  into  one  temple 
for  the  worship  of  the  One  God. 

"  Do  you  fear  the  bite  of  a  cobra,  and  fear  not  the  anger 
in  your  own  heart?  As  a  frail  boat  tossed  on  the  bosom  of 
the  raging  ocean,  so  is  the  soul  of  man  on  the  waves  of 
anger. 

"  Only  he  who  is  free  from  anxiety,  anger  and  fear, 
can  command  the  powers  of  the  Spirit  for  good. 

"  And  he  who  dares  to  pray  when  there  is  anger  or 
resentment  in  his  heart,  calls  down  all  the  powers  of  the 
universe  to  his  own  destruction. 

"  I  was  not  sent  by  the  Spirit  merely  to  sing  of  the 
beauty  of  the  Spirit;  I  was  also  sent  to  accuse  the  world. 
Few,  indeed,  are  there  among  you  who  would  not  barter 
your  souls  for  little  or  much  money,  and  congratulate  your- 
selves upon  the  opportunity;  and  these  sums  of  money 
would  not  vary  with  the  varying  values  you  set  upon  your 
souls,  but  rather  with  the  difference  in  your  standards  of 
comfort  or  display.  Many  of  you,  not  honest  even  with 
yourselves,  would  call  upon  God  to  attest  the  bargain, 
salving  the  moral  sore  with  oily  phrases,  pledging  tithes 
to  church  or  charity  of  the  wages  of  your  soul's  prostitu- 
tion. A  candid  thief  is  often  nearer  to  the  Spirit  than  a 
hypocritical  professor  of  spiritual  doctrines. 

"  Hypocrisy  is  to  the  soul  what  gangrene  is  to  the  flesh. 
Cut  it  out,  before  it  shall  corrupt  you  in  every  part. 

"  You  talk  about  God  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  know 
not  what  you  mean;  but  when  you  talk  about  dollars  and 
cents,  you  know  well  what  you  mean. 

"You  are  afraid  to  face  the  royal  lion  of  the  Spirit; 
but  you  dwell  without  fear  in  the  nest  of  the  poisonous 
serpent  of  hypocrisy. 

"  If  I  gave  you  the  very  Holy  Ghost,  which  is  the  poetry 
of  the  Spirit,  you  would  make  of  it  a  form  of  merchandise. 

"The  reason  why  the  spiritual  teaching  is  so  unintelligi- 
ble to  you  is  because  your  minds  cannot  grasp  any  purpose 
which  has  not  for  its  end  some  selfish  gain. 

"  You  who  hate  me,  and  would  gladly  destroy  me  be- 
cause I  point  out  your  hypocrisy,  would  praise  me  to-mor- 
row— should  I  turn  hypocrite. 


THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL          467 

"  Having  found  truth,  I  come  and  offer  it  to  you,  with- 
out charge;  and  you  call  it  dangerous — asking  by  what 
authority  I  heal  the  sick  and  raise  men  from  the  grave. 
Should  I  withdraw  myself,  announcing  that  I  had  found 
the  secret  of  acquiring  fabulous  wealth,  and  should  charge 
you  a  thousand  dollars  a  lesson  for  imparting  it,  the  ante- 
room of  my  office  would  be  overcrowded  by  respectable 
persons  who  would  call  me  Master. 

"  You  talk  much  of  your  religion ;  but  I  say  that  if  the 
founder  of  your  religion  himself  should  return  to  you, 
walking  on  two  feet  and  clothed  in  garments  like  your 
own,  and  should  give  you  the  kernel — the  very  seed  and 
substance  of  the  doctrine  you  repeat  mechanically,  you 
would  reject  him  with  maledictions,  and  in  the  end  would 
kill  him. 

"When  I  speak  of  the  beauty  of  the  Spirit,  it  means 
little  to  you;  but  when  I  speak  of  the  ugliness  of  your 
insincerity,  it  means  much  to  you. 

"  As  a  man  may  busy  himself  from  dawn  to  midnight 
and  accomplish  nothing,  so  may  a  man  repeat  old  texts 
for  a  lifetime  and  touch  no  heart  thereby. 

"  The  worldly  man  scorns  aspiration  as  a  fish  scorns 
walking — and  has  no  more  idea  of  it. 

"  The  less  knowledge  a  man  has,  the  less  he  desires 
knowledge;  but  the  more  money  a  man  has,  the  more  he 
desires  money. 

"Would  you  know  what  a  man  really  is  in  his  soul? 
Then  ask  him  what  he  would  most  like  to  be.  Will  seven 
out  of  a  million  have  any  purer  dream  than  worldly  wealth 
or  glory — at  the  expense  of  others? 

"  He  who  prefers  his  own  welfare  to  the  welfare  of 
a  nation  has  erred  in  putting  on  the  human  form;  he  be- 
longs lower  in  the  scale  of  being.  Aye,  there  are  beasts 
that  walk  upon  two  feet,  and  sit  in  the  chairs  of  authority 
and  honour." 

Some  men  and  women  in  the  audience  twisted  in  their 
seats  as  Jesse  went  on  to  point  out  specific  instances  of 
dishonour,  hypocrisy  and  betrayal  of  public  and  private 
trust.  He  used  no  names,  but  the  force  of  his  thought 
was  such  that  he  could  convey  an  idea  of  personality  with- 
out giving  a  name.  Sentence  by  sentence  his  arraignment 
bit  into  the  consciousness  of  those  who  listened.  He  had 


468          THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL 

declared  that  he  was  sent  to  accuse  the  world ;  but  there 
was  no  bitterness,  no  malice  in  his  words.  Calm  and  im- 
partial as  the  god  directing  the  combat  on  the  pediment  of 
the  temple  of  Zeus  at  Olympia,  he  stood  there.  The 
motives  behind  many  acts  of  ostensible  public  charity  he 
stripped  of  their  veil  of  plausibility;  the  hidden  purposes 
of  leaders  of  political  parties  he  revealed  in  all  their  immoral 
nakedness;  the  misuse  of  the  powers  of  the  public  press  for 
private  ends,  the  corruptions  of  domestic  life,  the  false- 
hoods promulgated  in  the  name  of  education,  the  subserv- 
iency of  religion  to  money,  the  dark  ways  they  often  walk 
who  accumulate  vast  fortunes — upon  all  these  matters  he 
let  in  the  startling  light  of  truth. 

Those  who  had  regarded  him  as  a  mere  dreamer,  with 
little  or  no  knowledge  of  the  world,  were  astonished  by 
the  breadth  and  accuracy  of  his  information;  for  he  quoted 
figures  in  support  of  many  of  his  statements,  and  few  men 
of  the  world  could  have  shown  a  clearer  knowledge  of  some 
of  the  most  complicated  questions  of  domestic  and  inter- 
national politics.  Several  persons  who  had  come  to  the 
Garden  to  hear  an  idealist  spin  webs  of  verbal  moonbeams, 
invisible  in  the  light  of  day,  now  knit  their  brows  in 
troubled  thought.  Had  the  man  himself  a  political  pur- 
•  pose,  some  worldly  ambition  to  serve?  If  so,  he  would 
prove  really  dangerous,  they  reasoned,  not  knowing  how 
much  more  potent  for  revolution  is  an  idea  than  an  army. 
But  his  next  words  left  them  even  more  perplexed,  for  there 
is  nothing  so  hard  for  the  world  to  understand  as  a  man 
who  passionately  proclaims  the  truth  for  its  own  sake  and 
not  for  his. 

"You  are  asking  yourselves  what  political  remedy  I  offer 
for  these  evils  besetting  the  path  of  humanity.  I  offer  no 
political  remedy — that  is  for  you  to  find.  But  I  would 
direct  mankind  to  another  path,  lying  beyond  all  recorded 
human  experience,  a  path  which  winds  up-hill,  among  the 
mountains  of  the  soul.  By  it  shall  man  escape  cruelty, 
deceit  and  hatred,  and  all  the  grosser  forms  of  earthly  suf- 
fering. Travelling  on  that  path  the  poor  shall  find  suf- 
ficiency of  nourishment  through  faith,  and  the  rich  shall 
find  that  faith  itself  is  the  eternal  sufficiency. 

"And  what  is  that  path?    It  is  the  path  of  the  love  of 


THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL          469 

the  Spirit,  the  Spirit  that  is  God  and  is  present  in  the  souls 
of  all  mankind.  It  is  not  to  be  sought  in  any  definite  place, 
for  it  is  everywhere;  but  the  way  to  it  is  through  the  heart 
of  man.  They  who  travel  on  that  path  breathe  the  pure 
air  of  spiritual  consciousness,  which  is  the  consciousness  of 
the  Spirit  in  themselves  and  in  all  others.  And  peace  is 
there  for  all ;  because  no  man  can  struggle  against  or  injure 
another  when  he  is  conscious  that  in  both  of  them  is  the  one 
Spirit,  whose  breath  is  love.  And  no  man  can  tread  that 
path  alone;  for  feeling  in  his  heart  the  oppressive  fulness 
of  spiritual  love,  he  needs  must  pour  it  out  upon  others; 
and  the  more  he  gives  to  others  of  that  love,  the  greater  is 
the  ecstasy  of  his  own  fulness.  To  such  a  man  it  mat- 
ters little  whether  he  has  two  coats  or  only  one,  so  long  as 
no  one  else  is  cold  and  shivering;  to  such  a  man  the 
possession  of  two  coats  would  give  unhappiness,  while  there 
was  any  who  had  none.  He  who  thinks  that  he  has  found 
the  love  of  God — the  Spirit,  and  does  not  feel  his  soul 
go  out  in  love  to  every  living  thing,  knows  not  the 
power  of  the  great  Name  he  takes  upon  his  lips;  he 
is  like  a  man  who  should  declare  that  he  had  found  the 
ocean  in  a  cistern  which  he  kept  covered  and  fastened  with 
a  lock.  And  as  the  water  in  a  cistern  becomes  impure 
when  it  is  long  covered  from  the  air,  so  does  God-conscious- 
ness in  the  heart  of  man  when  covered  and  kept  away  from 
others. 

"What  has  the  world  to  offer, — the  world  whose  folly 
and  hypocrisy  and  moral  ugliness  I  have  pointed  out  to 
you, — what  has  the  world  to  offer  that  a  man  should  choose 
it  in  preference  to  this  God-consciousness,  the  Spirit-con- 
sciousness which  makes  the  soul  so  blessed  that  it  cannot 
contain  the  fulness  of  its  joy?  The  path  of  wordly  ambi- 
tion for  self  is  through  a  miasmatic  valley  where  every 
breath  is  full  of  fever;  the  flowers  growing  along  that  path 
are  poisonous  flowers,  and  deadly  serpents  writhe  among 
the  grasses. 

"  But  the  path  of  spiritual  attainment,  whereon  a  man 
forgets  himself  in  love  for  God  and  all  those  other  crea- 
tures who  together  are  his  larger  self,  leads  upward  where 
the  air  is  pure,  and  sweet  with  the  aroma  of  the  love-breath- 
ing Spirit — the  Pervader  of  the  universe  of  souls. 


470         THE   SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"  May  you  all  walk  that  path  with  me  and  with  one 
another. 

"  For  the  present  order  of  things  shall  pass  away.  There 
will  not  be  left  one  stone  upon  another  of  all  the  structures 
of  material  power  you  are  building  for  the  aggrandise- 
ment of  self.  I  am  here  to  proclaim  the  revolution  of  the 
Spirit.  It  will  come  like  a  fiery  whirlwind  from  the  upper 
regions  of  God-consciousness,  and  will  reduce  to  nothing  all 
your  proudest  monuments.  This  is  a  revolution  that  no 
power  can  stay;  no  alien  laws  can  bar  in  its  face  the  gate- 
ways of  the  continent,  and  no  earthly  ruler  can  banish  the 
Spirit  from  any  human  heart  where  it  has  once  found  wel- 
come. Even  persecution  shall  not  prevail  against  it,  for 
faith  is  stronger  than  persecution.  The  citadels  of  preju- 
dice shall  one  by  one  give  way  before  it,  for  the  fire  of 
love  and  faith  will  melt  the  hardest  walls,  reaching  the 
hearts  of  those  that  would  defend  themselves  against  the 
irresistible  onrush.  Though  you  hide  yourself  in  the  caverns 
of  the  earth,  the  eye  of  faith  shall  find  you ;  though  you  flee 
to  the  regions  of  polar  ice,  the  fire  of  love  shall  melt  you. 

"  You  may  slay  the  prophet  of  the  Spirit,  but  you  can- 
not slay  the  Spirit.  The  hour  is  come  when  it  would 
manifest  itself  in  the  hearts  of  men,  and  no  hand  is  strong 
enough  to  set  back  the  clock.  Its  enemies  shall  fly  before 
it  as  leaves  before  the  hurricane,  as  dead  leaves  which  re- 
turn to  dust.  It  is  like  a  plant  which  scatters  a  million 
seeds  upon  the  wind;  though  you  mow  down  one  field,  an- 
other will  spring  up.  It  is  like  a  trickling  mountain  stream 
which  will  soon  become  a  mighty  river,  sweeping  every- 
thing before  it  in  its  onward  rush  to  the  ocean. 

"  The  power  of  the  Spirit  is  supreme,  and  the  hour  of 
the  Spirit  is  at  hand.  May  the  Spirit  awaken  in  your 
hearts  to  a  consciousness  of  itself!  " 

« 

He  turned  and  left  the  platform,  and  the  audience  of 
thousands,  astonished  at  his  words,  filed  slowly  out  of  the 
building  in  utter  silence. 


CHAPTER  LXXIV 

AT  eleven  o'clock  on  Wednesday  morning  there  was  a 
council  of  prominent  clergymen  and  their  supporters  in  the 
study  of  the  Reverend  Doctor  Claflin.  These  men  had  all 
been  present  at  Jesse's  meeting  in  Madison  Square  Garden 
the  night  before,  and  they  had  come  together  by  appoint- 
ment to  consider  how  serious  was  the  question  of  his  in- 
fluence with  the  people.  Other  prophets  had  arisen  in 
other  years  who  predicted  the  destruction  of  an  order  of 
society  grown  old  in  sin;  but  their  power  of  person  and  of 
word  had  not  been  deemed  sufficiently  important  to  war- 
rant anxiety  on  the  part  of  those  whose  long  verbal  war- 
fare with  sin  had  given  them  a  respectable  and  even  dis- 
tinguished monopoly  of  that  business.  In  what  was  this 
man,  Jesse  Bethel,  different  from  those  who  had  come  and 
gone  before  him?  They  could  not  say,  but  they  realised 
that  he  was  different.  That  point  conceded  by  all  at  the 
outset  of  the  conference,  they  were  ready  to  proceed  with 
the  discussion  of  questions  of  expediency. 

"  I  cannot  say  too  emphatically,"  declared  Doctor  Claflin, 
"that  I  consider  this  man  extremely  dangerous." 

"  But  he  is  so  illogical !  "  cried  one  of  the  younger  minis- 
ters. "  Surely  in  our  day  the  world  will  not  be  carried 
away  by  the  glamour  of  a  personality  and  by  a  few  allur- 
ing promises  of  the  millennium." 

"  You  mistake  the  world,"  said  a  smiling,  strong-faced 
member  of  the  conference,  who  was  not  himself  a  wearer  of 
the  cloth  but  was  a  generous  supporter  of  the  church, 
had  not  gone  far  in  the  study  of  religious  history  before  I 
discovered  that  no  great  religion  has  been  founded  upon 
logic;  but  that  all  of  them,  without  exception,  have  been 
founded  upon  the  glamour  of  a  personality  and  a  few 
alluring  promises  of  a  millennium." 

"  But,"  persisted  the  young  man,  "  he  talks  of  a  spiritual 
revolution.  Somebody — I  forget  who,  or  in  what  con- 

47i 


472          THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL 

nection — has  declared  that  revolutions  are  not  made  with 
rose-water." 

"Just  so,"  assented  the  strong-faced  layman;  "but 
revolutions  are  made  with  an  idea,  and  this  man  has  an 
idea.  He  evidently  has  no  personal  ambition,  an  unusual 
lack  in  one  who  seeks  to  lead  a  revolution.  Whether  that 
makes  him  stronger  or  weaker  I  cannot  say,  there  being  a 
dearth  of  precedents  by  which  to  judge  him." 

"  He  may  have  the  ambition  of  martyrdom." 

"  If  so,  his  power  will  prove  irresistible." 

Several  of  the  counsellors  moved  restlessly  in  their  seats. 
Had  they  acted  wisely  in  asking  this  cold-brained,  iron- 
grey  man  of  money  to  take  part  in  their  deliberations?  They 
glanced  at  Doctor  Claflin,  of  whose  church  he  was  an 
influential  member. 

"  I  think,"  said  Doctor  Claflin,  "  that  Mr.  Needham's 
opinions  may  be  of  great  help  to  us.  We  clergymen,  who 
have  given  our  lives  upon  the  altar  of  our  faith,  may  not 
be  able  to  judge  these  matters  so  dispassionately  as  Mr. 
Needham  can  judge  them." 

"  There  is  a  rumour,"  said  a  suave  minister  who  had  not 
spoken  heretofore — "  there  is  a  rumour  that  Mr.  Need- 
ham's  son  is  interested  in  this  young  carpenter-prophet." 

The  rich  man  smiled,  and  with  a  slight  motion  of  his 
hand  seemed  to  wave  the  matter  aside  as  of  no  consequence. 
He  said: 

"  My  secretary  showed  me  a  newspaper  containing  a 
snap-shot  photograph  purporting  to  be  of  my  son  in  con- 
versation with  this  man  at  the  foot  of  a  flight  of  steps.  As 
you  may  imagine,  I  and  my  family  have  been  for  so  many 
years  pursued  by  camera-fiends,  that  these  attentions  on  the 
part  of  the  press  have  lost  the  interest  of  novelty.  My 
son,  who  is  my  partner,  and  will  be  my  successor  in  the 
ownership  of  all  the  Needham  interests,  can  be  trusted  to 
converse  with  a  street  preacher,  if  the  fancy  takes  him, 
without  being  called  to  account  by  me." 

"  Undoubtedly,  undoubtedly,"  replied  the  suave  minister. 

"  I  regret  exceedingly,"  continued  Doctor  Claflin,  "  that 
it  was  a  member  of  my  own  church  who  was  instrumental 
in  starting  this  excitement.  I  refer,  of  course,  to  Mrs. 
Freeman." 


THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL          473 

"  We  can  hardly  blame  her,"  smiled  the  youngest  man 
present,  who  had  not  lost  his  sense  of  humour  through  the 
accumulation  of  learned  letters  after  his  name.  "  The 
temptation  to  walk  without  crutches  must  have  been  very 
great  to  Mrs.  Freeman.  And  then,  you  forget  that  the 
agitation  began  with  the  cataleptic,  or  the  dead  man, 
whichever  he  was,  on  the  other  side  of  the  river." 

The  man  who  had  pronounced  Jesse's  teachings  illogical 
now  proved,  logically,  to  the  last  speaker  that  the  sleep 
of  Lawrence  Lane  must  have  been  of  a  cataleptic  character. 
"  To  admit  any  other  possibility,"  he  declared,  "  is  to  un- 
dermine the  very  foundations  of  faith." 

"  Yet  he  says  it  was  by  faith  he  did  it." 

"  My  dear  brethren,"  came  in  the  persuading  voice  of 
the  Reverend  Doctor  Claflin,  "we  have  met  together  to 
consider  questions  of  profound  seriousness.  Let  us  give 
a  few  moments  to  silent  prayer." 

And  the  clergymen  all  closed  their  eyes  and  prayed, 
silently  and  sincerely,  that  God  would  give  them  light; 
while,  from  his  chair  at  one  end  of  the  long  council  table, 
John  Needham  watched  them,  his  steel-blue  eyes  impene- 
trable as  those  of  the  Sphinx.  When  he  saw  by  the  flut- 
tering eyelids  of  his  nearest  neighbour  that  the  season  of 
prayer  was  nearing  its  end,  he  closed  his  own  eyes  respect- 
fully for  a  few  moments.  Did  he  also  pray?  He  believed 
that  he  did.  And  being  a  man  of  indomitable  will,  whose 
imagination  called  railways,  steamship  lines,  towns  and  cities 
into  existence,  even  his  prayers  were  not  supplications  but 
commands.  He  told  the  invisible  Power  to  aid  him  in 
the  matter  in  hand,  as  he  would  have  told  his  attorney  to 
prosecute  a  certain  case  against  a  rival  railroad. 

John  Needham  admired  Jesse  Bethel  more  than  he  had 
admired  any  man  for  years;  but  it  was  not  in  consonance 
with  the  famous  "  Needham  interests "  that  any  religious 
or  social  agitation  should  gain  headway  just  at  this  time, 
when  many  important  bills  were  pending  in  the  state  and 
national  legislatures.  He  was  himself  one  of  the  men 
whom  Jesse  had  not  named  the  night  before,  but  whose 
picture  he  had  sketched  upon  the  minds  of  his  listeners  by 
a  few  telling  strokes  of  verbal  image-making.  Yet  the 
great  financier  bore  no  malice  to  the  prophet.  He  was  so 


474          THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL 

accustomed  to  falsetto  imprecations  and  impotent  attacks, 
that  he  respected  the  man  who  pierced  his  armour  with 
telling  thrusts  of  irony.  Here  was  an  adversary  worthy 
of  his  attention.  But  it  was  a  matter  requiring  delicate 
manipulation,  and  the  aid  of  men  who  felt  the  resentment 
and  the  prejudice  which  he  himself  had  long  ago 
left  behind — somewhere  along  the  iron  road  of  power 
that  he  had  chosen  for  the  private-car  of  his  soul  to 
travel  on. 

"  This  man  who  calls  himself  the  mouthpiece  of  the 
Spirit  seemed  to  me  last  night  to  be  attacking  the  clergy," 
Mr.  Needham  said.  "  Did  you  not  so  understand  his 
words?" 

"  There  was  no  other  possible  interpretation,"  answered 
Doctor  Claflin.  "  And  yesterday  forenoon,  when  we  ques- 
tioned him  about  many  things,  he  answered  us  in  stories, 
or  parables,  the  evident  intent  of  which  was  an  attack  upon 
the  sincerity  of  our  faith." 

"  Oh,  I  did  not  know  about  that !  "  Mr.  Needham's 
eyes  opened  wider.  "  Where  was  this  conversation  ?  " 

"  In  the  very  vestibule  of  my  church.  I  heard  that  he 
was  there,  and  went  with  several  of  my  friends,  fellow 
clergymen  and  others,  to  question  him." 

"  Can  you  recall  these  stories,  or  parables?" 

"  Not  in  so  many  words,  perhaps ;  but  the  meaning  of 
them  was  obvious:  that  we,  in  rejecting  him,  brought  down 
upon  ourselves  the  condemnation  of  the  future.  The 
man's  self-confidence,  to  call  it  by  the  mildest  term,  is  cer- 
tainly colossal.  And  if  we  may  believe  the  reports  of  the 
newspapers,  some  of  the  claims  made  for  him  by  his  fol- 
lowers who  spoke  in  the  streets  outside  the  Garden  last 
night  were  nothing  less  than  sacrilegious." 

"  Unfortunately,  in  these  days,"  said  Mr.  Needham,  "  we 
cannot  legally  punish  a  man  for  sacrilege." 

"  But  a  man  may  be  punished  for  inciting  disorderly 
demonstrations,"  came  the  sharp  voice  of  another  layman 
from  the  other  end  of  the  room. 

The  young  man  who  had  previously  excused  old  Mrs. 
Freeman  for  permitting  the  stranger  to  restore  the  use 
of  her  limbs,  now  spoke  again: 

"  May  this  not  be  one  of  those  cases  in  which,  by  attack- 


THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL          475 

ing  a  movement  too  vigorously,  you  lend  it  additional 
force?" 

"Are  you  in  sympathy  with  this  man?"  asked  Doctor 
Claflin,  and  there  was  a  challenge  in  his  voice. 

"  I  agree  with  you  that  he  is  dangerous  to  the  church," 
was  the  other's  guarded  reply. 

The  elder  man  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief.  "  I  feared  that 
you  might  have  fallen  under  the  spell  of  his  personality," 
he  said. 

At  that  moment  there  was  ushered  into  the  room  an 
old  man  of  commanding  presence,  Doctor  Henderson,  the 
father-in-law  of  their  host.  In  former  years  he  had  held 
the  position  in  the  church  now  occupied  by  Doctor  Claflin; 
but  though  advancing  years  had  caused  him  to  lay  down 
the  active  duties  of  his  calling,  he  still  retained  high  au- 
thority in  all  the  councils  of  his  denomination.  The  men 
assembled  rose  respectfully  as  he  entered  the  study  and  took 
his  place  in  the  chair  of  honour  reserved  for  him  at  one 
end  of  the  long  table.  He  had  the  white  patriarchal  beard 
of  a  high  priest  of  the  olden  time,  and  for  all  his  seventy- 
five  years  his  glance  was  still  piercing  and  his  voice  reso- 
nant. 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  exaggerate  the  importance  of  this 
young  agitator,"  he  began ;  "  but  he  seems  to  have  formed 
a  snow-ball  which,  if  it  goes  on  rolling  about,  may  attain 
a  considerable  size.  Now  we,  who  bear  on  our  shoulders 
the  responsibility  of  the  church  and  of  society,  must  try  to 
prevent  the  growth  of  the  snow-ball." 

"  Have  you  any  suggestion  as  to  the  method  we  should 
pursue?"  The  voice  of  Doctor  Claflin  was  anxious  and 
uncertain. 

"  I  know  but  little  regarding  the  man's  character,"  the 
patriarch  replied ;  "  though  I  went  to  hear  him  speak  last 
night,  and  it  took  two  officers  to  make  a  way  for  me  from 
my  carriage  door  to  the  entrance  of  the  building.  What 
a  mob  it  was!  " 

"  But,  withal,  a  very  orderly  mob,"  quietly  observed  the 
youngest  of  the  counsellors. 

"  I  paused  a  moment  before  going  in,"  Doctor  Hender- 
son continued,  "  and  I  heard  one  of  those  outside  speakers 
— evidently  a  Yankee  farmer,  judging  from  his  accent — 


476         THE   SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

declare  that  his  Master,  as  he  called  him,  was  of  divine 
origin.  I  shuddered  at  the  blasphemy;  but  I  see  that  one 
of  the  morning  papers  has  recorded  it  in  letters  several 
inches  high." 

"  It  would  seem,"  said  Mr.  Needham,  "  that  the  snow- 
ball has  already  attained  a  considerable  size.  You  said 
just  now,  Doctor  Henderson,  that  you  knew  little  regard- 
ing the  man's  character.  Shall  I  sketch  it  for  you,  in 
four  words  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  you  do  so,  in  as  many  words  as 
you  like." 

"  Only  fciur  are  necessary :       The  man  is  sincere" 

"Is  it  possible?  You  do,  indeed,  surprise  me,  Mr. 
Needham,  for  I  know  how  certain  are  your  judgments  as 
to  the  character  and  motives  of  men." 

The  shaggy  white  eyebrows  of  the  old  minister  were 
drawn  together  in  perplexity.  How  could  a  man  who 
made  such  claims  for  himself  be  sincere?  Doctor  Hen- 
derson was  of  another  and  less  tolerant  generation  than 
that  of  the  present;  he  was  born  before  the  age  of  modern 
psychological  analysis,  born  in  a  period  when  for  the 
churchman  humanity  was  divided  into  sheep  and  goats. 
For  him,  even  the  so-called  higher  criticism  was  little  less 
than  heresy,  and  a  man  who  attacked  the  authority  of  or- 
ganised religion  was  outside  the  pale  of  human  sympathy. 
According  to  the  reasoning  of  Doctor  Henderson,  such  a 
man  could  not  be  sincere — unless,  indeed,  he  were  pos- 
sessed by  the  devil.  The  doctor  had  not  a  very  clear  idea 
of  the  rationale  of  demoniacal  possession;  but  he  hated  the 
devil  with  all  the  passion  of  those  who  fear  hell-fire.  There 
could  be  no  two  opinions  as  to  his  sincerity,  whatever  the 
younger  clergy  might  whisper  among  themselves  regarding 
his  intolerance. 

"  You  surprise  me,"  he  repeated,  looking  fixedly  at 
Mr.  Needham.  "But  if  the  man  is  sincere,  as  you  be- 
lieve, can  he  not  be  convinced  of  the  error  of  his  way  ?  " 

Over  the  controlled  face  of  the  rich  man  there  flickered 
the  very  ghost  of  a  smile.  He  said: 

"  I  could  more  easily  convince  the  owners  of  the  Q.  & 
L.  of  the  error  of  their  rights  of  way." 

Now  Doctor   Henderson's  modest  savings  were  all  in- 


477 

vested  in  the  railways  controlled  by  Mr.  Needham,  and 
he  was  superficially  learned  in  the  iniquities  of  the  trouble- 
some Q.  &  L.  The  comparison  was  therefore  convincing, 
though  not  reassuring. 

The  counsellors  reviewed  the  advent  of  Jesse  Bethel  in 
many  lights  and  in  many  words.  Mr.  Needham  was  the 
only  one  who  observed  that  the  number  of  men  around 
Doctor  Claflin's  study  table  was  twelve,  and  he  mentally 
compared  their  council  to  the  deliberations  of  a  jury. 
When,  after  two  hours  of  talk,  they  had  arrived  at  no  con- 
clusion as  to  ways  and  means  of  silencing  the  troublesome 
prophet  of  a  spiritual  era,  he  arose  and  buttoned  his  coat. 
The  others  looked  at  him,  knowing  from  the  expression  of 
his  face  that  he  had  something  important  to  offer. 

"  I  would  suggest,"  he  said,  slowly,  pausing  every  few 
words  to  give  his  simple  proposition  greater  weight — "  I 
would  suggest  that  the  further  consideration  of  this  matter 
be  left  in  the  hands  of  Doctor  Claflin  and  myself.  Is  that 
the  will  of  these  gentlemen,  and  of  Doctor  Henderson  ?  '' 

"  An  excellent  suggestion,"  said  the  patriarch,  who  ad- 
mired the  practical  methods  of  his  son-in-law,  without  being 
able  always  to  adjust  them  to  the  standards  of  his  own  less 
elastic  conscience.  And  many  other  voices  echoed,  in  ac- 
cents of  relief,  "  An  excellent  suggestion." 

It  was  then  agreed  by  this  committee  of  two  that  they 
should  meet  together  a  little  later  in  the  day,  after  Mr. 
Needham  had  taken  counsel  from  his  attorney. 

"Oh,  you  cannot  invoke  the  law  against  him!"  ex- 
claimed the  most  sympathetic  of  the  younger  men.  "  He  is 
a  peaceable  and  law-abiding  person." 

Mr.  Needham  waved  his  hand,  in  the  conciliatory,  cas- 
ual way  with  which  they  were  all  familiar. 

"  There  will  probably  be  no  occasion  for  strenuous 
methods,"  he  said;  "  but  it  is  well  for  us  to  know  exactly 
what  we  may  and  may  not  do — in  case  the  matter  should 
become  more  pressing.  It  is  extremely  undesirable,  in  these 
unsettled  and  even  dangerous  times,  to  have  an  agitator 
stirring  up  the  emotions  of  the  masses,  who  mean  well 
enough,  in  their  way,  but  who,  by  reason  of  the  narrow- 
ness of  their  outlook,  cannot  take  the  large  view  of  pub- 
lic questions  which  we  take.  I  think,  gentlemen,  that  we 


THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL 

can  persuade  this  evidently  well-meaning  idealist  that  the 
quiet  and  remote  regions,  where  he  has  hitherto  pursued 
the  will-o'-the-wisp  of  a  regenerated  world,  are  better  suited 
to  his  mission  than  the  more  complex  civilisation  of  the 
metropolis.  I  think  so,  gentlemen,  I  think  so." 

The  meeting  then  dissolved.  But  more  than  one  of  the 
counsellors  went  away  with  troubled  thoughts,  vaguely 
unsatisfied  with  the  outcome  of  the  morning's  deliberations. 
Though  they  felt  that  the  purposes  of  this  new  prophet 
were  not  in  consonance  with  their  own  interests,  yet  there 
was  something  about  him  which  stirred  their  imagination 
and  attracted  them  against  their  will.  Could  it  be  that 
the  world  was  really  on  the  eve  of  a  great  spiritual  awak- 
ening? They  were  themselves  weary  with  long  years  of 
battering  upon  the  doors  of  religious  indifference  and  ma- 
terialism; though  they  were  obliged  to  use  the  weapons  of 
materialism — or  so  they  had  supposed.  Was  it  possible 
that  one  who  fought  the  great  fight  differently,  who  used 
only  the  weapons  of  the  Spirit  in  the  Spirit's  cause,  should 
succeed  where  they  had  failed?  For  many  of  them  secretly 
acknowledged  that  they  had  failed.  Though  their  churches 
grew  richer,  they  were  not  growing  in  spiritual  grace. 
These  men  would  have  been  more  than  human  had  they 
not  felt  troubled  when  contrasting  the  uncountable  thou- 
sands who  flocked  to  hear  this  stranger  with  the  small  gath- 
erings in  their  own  magnificent  churches;  but  they  told 
themselves  that  they  did  not  wish  any  harm  to  come  to 
him.  They  recalled  with  some  uneasiness  the  final  words 
of  John  Needham.  It  was  evidently  his  purpose  that  the 
agitation  of  the  new  prophet,  as  he  was  called,  should  not 
make  further  progress;  but  what  was  the  motive  behind 
the  purpose?  Was  it  loyalty  to  the  church?  They  could 
not  think  so,  though  he  gave  more  liberally  to  churches 
than  did  any  other  man.  These  ministers  called  themselves 
men  of  God;  but  they  were  men  of  the  world  in  the 
sense  of  knowing  the  world  and  the  world's  ways.  Many 
of  them  were  idealists  at  heart,  and  honestly  believed  that 
they  had  given  their  lives  to  the  service  of  the  ideal.  He 
that  is  without  worldly  ambition  among  you,  let  him  first 
cast  a  stone  at  them. 


CHAPTER  LXXV 

LEANING  meditatively  over  the  railing  above  a  little 
stream  in  a  secluded  part  of  Central  Park  stood  Judson 
Carey,  about  one  o'clock  on  Wednesday  afternoon.  He 
was  dressed  in  new,  dark  clothing  of  good  material,  pur- 
chased that  morning  from  the  funds  of  the  communal 
treasury  which  he  carried.  The  imposing  of  this  trust  upon 
Judson  had  been  Jesse's  way  of  securing  for  him  the  con- 
fidence of  the  others.  Several  of  the  men  carried  money 
t)f  their  own;  but  the  common  fund  for  travelling  expenses, 
to  which  all  contributed  according  to  their  means,  was  in 
the  hands  of  the  least  popular  of  their  number. 

He  had  made  an  excuse  that  morning  for  absenting  him- 
self a  few  hours  from  the  company  of  his  associates,  be- 
cause he  wanted  to  be  alone  to  think.  Walking  along 
the  street,  he  had  seen  the  attractive  window  of  a  clothier's 
and  had  entered  the  shop.  Surely  he  owed  it  to  himself 
and  to  the  Master  to  make  a  respectable  appearance  here  in 
the  city  where  they  were  attracting  so  much  attention,  and 
his  old  clothes  were  shabby.  Surely,  again,  if  what  be- 
longed to  one  belonged  to  all,  then  a  part  of  what  belonged 
to  all  might  be  used  by  one,  if  his  need  were  great.  And 
Judson  felt  that  his  need  was  great.  Perhaps,  he  told  him- 
self, if  he  had  been  dressed  as  well  as  the  four  favourites,  he 
might  have  been  one  of  those  to  whom  the  honour  had 
fallen  of  addressing  the  crowds  outside  the  Garden  the 
evening  before.  He  thought  himself  a  much  better  speaker 
than  Andrew.  When  the  two  had  been  travelling  together 
the  preceding  summer,  the  shy  young  man  had  always  told 
him  so. 

Leaning  over  the  railing  above  the  little  stream  in  Cen- 
tral Park,  he  gave  himself  up  to  unhappy  thoughts.  It 
seemed  that  he  was  not  appreciated  by  the  members  of 
their  band,  for  whom,  as  he  told  himself,  he  had  made  so 
many  sacrifices.  His  memory  went  back  to  many  inci- 
dents in  which  he  had  been  made  to  feel  his  position  as  a 
formerly  discharged  employee  of  Peter's.  At  intervals  dur- 

479 


480         THE   SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

ing  the  winter,  when  the  men  were  in  Capronville,  he  had 
worked  in  the  mill  for  the  Bond  brothers;  and  he  had 
been  as  rigidly  held  to  the  time-schedule  as  any  stranger — 
he,  a  fellow  disciple  with  his  employers!  Then,  again, 
the  Master  himself  had  never  given  him  the  confidence 
which  he  gave  the  four  men  who  each  owned  an  interest 
in  the  lumber-mills  at  Capronville;  for  the  father  of  James 
and  John  Dana  was  even  more  prosperous  than  Peter.  It 
was  true  that  Judson  had  been  given  the  purse  to  carry 
when  they  were  travelling;  but  he  was  always  being  asked 
by  somebody  how  much  he  had  spent  for  this  and  that — 
as  if  they  were  afraid  of  being  cheated.  He  was  tired  of 
it.  When  they  came  to  New  York,  he  had  felt  that  the 
fact  of  his  having  been  in  the  city  several  times  before 
would  give  him  a  certain  superiority  over  men  who  had 
never  been  outside  their  native  State;  but  no  one  seemed 
to  consider  it.  No  one  seemed  to  consider  him.  He  was 
not  over-fond  of  sleeping  out  of  doors  so  early  in  the  spring, 
as  they  had  done  for  the  last  two  nights.  Though  he  had 
roughed  it  more  or  less  in  years  gone  by,  he  was  the  only 
one  among  the  Twelve  who  had  caught  cold  during  the 
long  nights  on  the  Palisades.  And  John  had  bantered  him 
about  it,  as  if  there  was  something  disloyal  to  the  Master 
in  catching  cold. 

Perhaps,  after  all,  it  was  just  as  well  that  he  was  not 
one  of  those  who  had  been  chosen  to  speak  to  the  crowds 
outside  the  Garden  the  night  before.  Some  of  the  papers 
that  morning  had  severely  censured — even  cast  ridicule 
upon  the  speakers.  And,  judging  by  all  the  Master 
said  about  the  future,  the  censure  and  the  ridicule  were 
only  just  beginning;  there  was  much  worse  to  come.  It 
was  all  very  well  so  long  as  Jesse  was  there,  to  stand  with 
his  charming  personality  and  beautiful  words  between  them 
and  the  world;  but  how  about  the  time  when  he  would 
not  be  there — if  the  prediction  of  his  death  should  be  ful- 
filled? His  death!  Why  should  Jesse  think  that  he  was 
going  to  die?  What  malice  of  Fate  could  let  him  die,  leav- 
ing the  least  fortunate  of  his  followers  to  battle  alone  with 
the  prejudice  of  the  others?  But,  if  it  was  really  true  that 
the  end  of  their  association  was  at  hand,  why  should  not 
he  himself  take  some  thought  of  his  own  future?  He 


THE   SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          481 

was  glad  that  he  had  bought  the  new  clothes  in  which 
he  stood,  and  certain  other  little  things  from  time  to  time 
for  which  no  one  was  the  wiser. 

//  the  Master  should  die  (he  still  laid  stress  upon  the  if, 
for  he  did  not  fully  believe  it),  would  he  go  on  working  and 
preaching  with  the  others?  Somehow,  he  did  not  see  him- 
self in  imagination  accepting  the  leadership  of  Peter  Bond. 
Jesse  had  always  stood  between  him  and  the  ill-concealed 
dislike  of  nearly  all  the  others.  Suppose  he  were  to  sepa- 
rate from  them  and  start  a  movement  of  his  own?  The 
idea  of  future  persecution  for  the  followers  of  Jesse  did  not 
appeal  to  him.  Surely  the  teachings  of  the  Master  could 
be  presented  in  such  a  way  as  to  win  praise  and  popularity, 
not  persecution.  What  need  was  there  for  flying  in  the 
face  of  the  world's  prejudice?  A  little  tact,  a  little  flat- 
tery, a  little  modification  here  and  there  of  the  austere 
ideal  of  the  Master,  to  suit  the  time  and  the  people, — • 
what  else  was  necessary?  Why  should  he  not  use  the 
already  perfected  machinery  of  the  churches  to  carry  on  the 
work?  Let  the  others  rave  to  the  rabble  in  the  streets,  if 
they  preferred  to  do  so.  He  would  seek  out  the  cultured 
and  refined,  and  make  himself  a  power  among  them.  He 
had  written  down  many  of  the  sayings  of  Jesse;  he  had 
caught  the  style,  and  could  make  other  sayings  of  his  own. 
Perhaps  he  would  himself  have  disciples — not  country  peo- 
ple merely,  but  all  sorts  of  people,  including  the  elegant  and 
the  rich.  It  was  true,  he  was  not  beautiful  like  Jesse;  but 
he  told  himself  that  he  knew  more  of  the  world — more 
of  the  mean  and  sordid  souls  of  which  the  world  was  made. 
He  would  play  upon  that  meanness  and  that  sordidness, 
would  use  them  for  his  own  ends,  all  the  time  worshipping 
in  secret  the  real  Master,  whom  he  felt  that  he  alone  knew. 

What  was  the  feeling  of  the  prominent  clergymen  re- 
garding Jesse?  he  wondered.  Suppose  he  were  to  find  out 
for  himself?  Suppose  he  were  to  go  now,  well-dressed  and 
with  freshly-trimmed  hair  and  beard,  to  the  house  of  the 
Reverend  Doctor  Claflin?  He  knew  the  house.  It  was 
not  far  from  the  church  where  the  Master  had  healed  the 
lame  woman.  Judson  had  no  cards;  but  he  would  send  in 
his  name  by  the  servant,  with  the  message,  "  On  important 
business  in  connection  with  the  Master,  Jesse  Bethel."  Or 


482          THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL 

perhaps  it  would  be  better  not  to  word  the  message  exactly 
in  that  way.  "  On  important  business  in  connection  with 
Jesse  Bethel " — that  would  be  more  politic.  Probably  the 
Reverend  Doctor  Claflin  would  not  think  that  Jesse  should 
be  called  Master.  It  was  claiming  a  good  deal,  from  the 
standpoint  of  the  world,  now  Judson  came  to  consider 
it.  Indeed,  he  hardly  knew  just  when  they  had  begun  to 
call  Jesse  the  Master.  He  thought  it  had  been  started  by 
John,  when  they  joined  Jesse  in  Burlington  after  his 
sojourn  on  the  mountain. 

He  turned  away  from  the  railing  above  the  little  stream, 
whose  waters  he  had  been  watching  with  unseeing  eyes, 
and  walked  rapidly  southward  through  the  Park. 


CHAPTER  LXXVI 

THE  Reverend  Doctor  Claflin  and  John  Needham  were 
sitting  alone  together  in  the  clergyman's  study,  two  hours 
after  the  other  counsellors  of  the  morning  had  been  cour- 
teously dismissed.  The  committee  of  two  was  deliberating 
in  secret  the  problem  of  Jesse  Bethel. 

"  I  have  consulted  with  my  attorney,"  Mr.  Needham 
said,  "  and  he  tells  me  that  the  simplest  way  is  to  have 
him  arrested  for  disorderly  conduct,  then  re-arrested  for 
inciting  to  riot." 

"  But,"  answered  Doctor  Claflin,  in  perplexity,  "  the 
man  is  too  peaceable  to  be  disorderly;  he  will  never  incite 
a  riot." 

Mr.  Needham  smiled  his  peculiar,  indulgent  smile. 

"  Oh !  that  can  easily  be  arranged.  Leave  the  matter  to 
me." 

«  You  mean " 

"  I  mean  that  the  man  can  be  held  responsible  for  any 
disorder  taking  place  at  a  street  meeting  where  he  is 
preaching,  provided  it  shall  seem  to  be  instigated  by  his 
prophecies  of  revolution." 

"  But  do  you  know  where  he  intends  to  speak  during 
the  next  few  days?  " 

"  Not  at  this  moment.  But  in  order  to  hold  a  street 
meeting,  he  will  have  to  notify  the  police  in  advance;  that 
is  the  law." 

"  Can  the  police  not  forbid  him  to  speak  at  a  certain 
place,  and  then  arrest  him  if  he  speaks?  " 

"  Not  legally,  unless  there  is  obstruction  of  traffic ; 
though  it  is  sometimes  done  in  the  case  of  political  agi- 
tators." 

Doctor  Claflin  rubbed  his  plump,  clean-shaven  chin,  and 
there  was  a  line  of  trouble  between  his  brows. 

"  I  do  not  think,"  he  said,  "  that  you  can  get  rid  of  this 
man  merely  by  arresting  him.  Can  you  count  on  the 
magistrates  ?  " 

"  No.     But  I  again  say,  leave  that  to  me." 

483 


484          THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL 

"  I  am  exceedingly  grateful  to  you,  Mr.  Needham,  for 
taking  so  much  interest  in  this  matter,  for  wasting  your 
valuable  time " 

"  Oh,  I  never  waste  my  valuable  time !  I  also  have  in- 
terests at  stake." 

"  Will  you  think  me  inquisitive  if  I  ask  you  what  in- 
terests you  have  at  stake  which  can  be  injured  by  a  reli- 
gious agitator?  " 

"Why,  I  have  several  little  bills  before  the  legislature 
just  now,  and  all  this  talk  about  revolutions,  spiritual  or 
material,  is  untimely — for  my  interests.  Don't  you  un- 
derstand that  this  man  is  a  power?  He  has  a  tremendous 
personality,  a  tremendous  will.  His  gentleness  only  makes 
him  the  stronger." 

"And  your  purpose  is?" 

"  My  purpose  is  to  make  public  speaking  so  unpleasant 
for  him  that  he  will  abandon  it — if  I  can." 

"You  are  a  very  great  man,  Mr.  Needham." 

"  I  usually  effect  my  purposes,  if  that  is  to  be  great." 

"  Sometimes  I  think  there  is  no  other  greatness,"  ob- 
served the  shepherd  of  men's  souls. 

"  There  I  do  not  agree  with  you,"  replied  the  shepherd 
of  men's  wealth.  "  But  I  know  my  own  calling,  and  do 
not  strive  for  the  laurel-wreath  which  I  could  never  win." 

Mr.  Needham  had  recently  purchased  a  world-famous 
diamond  tiara  to  adorn  the  empty  head  of  his  elderly 
wife,  and  the  thought  of  this  gewgaw,  in  comparison  with 
the  simple  laurel  which  was  beyond  his  means,  brought  a 
smile  to  his  face.  He  was  not  without  a  sense  of  humour. 
But,  on  the  whole,  he  was  well  pleased  with  the  tiara;  for 
was  it  not  a  symbol  of  the  sort  of  power  which  was  within 
his  means? 

Their  deliberations  were  interrupted  by  the  velvet  knock 
of  the  butler  on  the  panel  of  the  door.  He  brought  the 
name  and  message  of  Judson  Carey,  "  On  business  of  im- 
portance in  connection  with  Jesse  Bethel." 

"Judson  Carey,"  repeated  Doctor  Claflin.  Then,  to  his 
guest  he  said,  "  I  do  not  know  the  man." 

"  He  is  one  of  the  followers  of  the  young  prophet,"  an- 
swered John  Needham,  who  always  knew  everything 
which  it  was  his  interest  to  know.  "  I  have  here  a  list 


485 

of  their  names,"  and  he  drew  from  his  pocket  a  slip  of 
paper.  "  There  is  no  source  of  private  information  so 
important  as  the  mouths  of  indiscreet  enthusiasts.  I  con- 
sider the  man's  visit  as  a  good  omen.  You  know  that  even 
Alexander  was  a  strong  believer  in  omens,"  And  Mr. 
Needham  smiled  again  his  slow,  peculiar  smile. 

"  Show  the  man  in,"  said  Doctor  Claflin  to  the  butler. 

Judson  entered  the  study.  His  heart  was  beating  faster 
than  usual,  but  his  naturally  quiet  manner  made  him  ap- 
pear better  bred  than  he  really  was.  Doctor  Claflin  did 
not  offer  to  shake  hands  with  his  visitor,  but  met  him  with 
an  air  half-way  between  cordiality  and  reserve,  an  air 
which  was  sympathetic  enough  to  invite  revelations  but  not 
warm  enough  to  be  self-committal.  Then  he  briefly  intro- 
duced him  to  Mr.  Needham,  who  did  offer  to  shake  hands. 
It  was  a  simple  action,  this  offer  of  his  hand  by  the  railway- 
king  to  the  obscure  disciple  of  a  rural  prophet;  but,  like  all 
the  actions  of  John  Needham,  whether  simple  or  complex,  it 
had  an  underlying  purpose.  Had  Judson  Carey  sought  him 
in  his  own  office,  he  probably  would  not  have  held  out  his 
hand ;  but  in  the  clergyman's  study  he  was  on  neutral  ground, 
and  he  calculated  the  exact  effect  which  his  cordiality 
would  produce.  From  that  moment  the  soul  of  the  dis- 
ciple was  wax  in  his  skilled  hand. 

"  I  met  your  son  the  other  evening,  Mr.  Needham,"  Jud- 
son said,  glowing  all  over  with  pleasure  and  pride. 

It  was  not  the  most  fortunate  remark  he  could  have 
made;  but  across  the  mind  of  the  observing  Doctor  Claflin 
there  flashed  a  revealing  light.  So  it  was  true  then,  as 
had  been  rumoured,  that  the  millionaire's  son  had  sought 
out  Jesse  Bethel?  Here  was  a  personal  motive  for  Mr. 
Needham's  activity  in  the  matter,  a  motive  more  convinc- 
ing than  the  one  he  himself  had  given — of  pending  legis- 
lative bills  which  might  be  affected  by  revolutionary  agita- 
tion. On  that  Sunday  morning  when  Doctor  Claflin  and 
the  young  millionaire  had  both  been  listeners  to  Jesse's  first 
public  talk  in  the  city,  the  clergyman  had  been  so  afraid 
of  being  seen  himself  that  he  had  seen  no  one  else. 

"  I  believe  my  son  did  mention  something  of  the  sort," 
was  the  untruthful  answer  of  the  imperturbable  one. 

Then  ensued  a  brief  and  awkward  silence,  each  man 


486          THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL 

waiting  for  one  of  the  others  to  attack  the  question  before 
them. 

"Were  you  sent  by  your  teacher?"  began  Doctor 
Claflin. 

"  No,"  answered  Judson  quickly,  "  he  is  not  aware  of 
my  visit.  I  came  on  my  own  responsibility — solely  on  my 
own  responsibility." 

"Yes?" 

There  was  another  silence,  briefer  than  the  first  and  less 
embarrassing;  then  Judson  said,  hesitatingly: 

'  I  thought  ...  It  has  seemed  to  me  ... 
Well,  to  put  it  briefly,  though  evidently  such  an  idea  has 
not  occurred  to  my  teacher,  it  seems  to  me  that  we  might 
work  in  harmony  instead  of  in  opposition." 

"  Is  there,  then,  opposition  ? "  guardedly  replied  the 
clergyman.  "  Naturally  we  have  not  looked  at  the  matter 
in  so  serious  a  light  as  you  have.  The  church  has  been 
here  a  long  time,  and  your  teacher  has  been  here  but  a  short 
time." 

The  manner  of  Doctor  Claflin  carried  more  meaning  to 
Judson  than  did  his  words.  It  was  plain  to  him  that  the 
clergyman  wished  to  put  him  at  a  disadvantage,  to  sug- 
gest that  the  followers  of  the  new  religion  were  not  of  suf- 
ficient importance  to  be  seriously  opposed  by  the  church. 
But,  though  the  colour  deepened  in  his  bronzed  face,  he  held 
his  temper  well  in  hand.  If  he  had  known  what  he  really 
wanted  to  do,  really  known  why  he  was  there  in  that  lux- 
uriously furnished  study,  talking  with  this  dignitary  of  the 
church  and  his  wealthy  supporter,  he  might  have  had  more 
self-assurance;  but  his  motives  were  so  obscure  that  they 
were  still  hidden  even  from  himself. 

"That  was  a  very  large  meeting  we  had  last  night,"  he 
said.  "Were  you  there,  Doctor  Claflin?" 

"  Why,  yes,  I  was  passing  the  Garden,  and  went  in  for  a 
little  while." 

"  Fully  a  thousand  people  met  the  Master  at  the  ferry- 
house  this  morning,"  Judson  went  on,  "  and  as  many  as 
could  get  near  him  asked  to  have  their  names  enrolled  as 
members  of  our  body." 

"Is  it  possible?"  asked  the  clergyman.  "Your  teacher, 
then,  is  founding  a  new  church?" 


THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL          487 

"  He  will  be  obliged  to  found  one;  the  people  will  force 
him  to  do  so.  Why,  I  have  never  seen  such  enthusiasm, 
such  adoration ! " 

The  large,  smooth-shaven  countenance  of  Doctor  Claflin 
was  overcast  by  a  cloud  of  anxiety.  John  Needham  watched 
the  two  men  with  the  same  look  of  intentness  with  which 
he  sometimes  watched  the  stock-ticker  in  his  private  office, 
when  no  one  but  his  clerk  was  watching  him. 

"There  is  only  one  thing  that  troubles  me,"  the  disciple 
continued,  looking  from  the  minister  to  the  millionaire,  and 
back  again — "  only  one  thing  that  troubles  me.  ...  It 
is  confidential,  of  course,  what  I  am  going  to  say?" 

"  Certainly,  certainly."  Doctor  Claflin  had  forgotten 
for  the  moment  the  distance  he  had  before  sought  to  keep 
between  himself  and  his  strange  visitor.  "You  may  speak 
quite  freely." 

"Well,  it  is  simply  this:  The  Master  has  an  idea,  a 
fixed  belief — almost  a  superstitious  belief — that  he  is  going 
to  die." 

Doctor  Claflin  leaped  to  his  feet  and  walked  to  the  win- 
dow, turning  his  back  toward  the  two  men.  He  felt  that 
the  sudden  joy  which  thrilled  him  must  be  reflected  in  his 
face,  and  he  did  not  wish  for  a  moment  to  meet  the  eyes 
of  even  his  coadjutor.  He  would  not  have  admitted  to  him- 
self an  hour  before  that  the  thought  of  death  for  any  of 
those  beings  whom  he  was  wont  to  call  the  children  of  God 
could  have  filled  his  heart  with  such  unholy  exultation. 
When  he  could  control  his  face,  he  turned  from  the  win- 
dow and  went  back  to  his  visitors;  but  he  did  not  trust 
himself  to  speak  immediately.  The  deep  and  steady  voice 
of  Mr.  Needham  was  saying: 

"  Your  teacher  is  generally  very  sure  in  his  intuitions,  is 
he  not?" 

"  I  may  say  that  every  prophecy  which  he  has  made  in 
the  past  has  been  literally  fulfilled.  But  this  new  idea  re- 
garding his  own  death  .  .  .  Why,  it  has  made  me 
consider."  .  .  . 

"  Go  on." 

"Well,  it  has  made  me  consider  the  future — my  own  fu- 
ture, and  that  of  the  Master's  work." 

"I  see,  I  see,"  said  Mr.  Needham;  but  he  did  not  tell 


THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL 

them  what  he  saw.  Then  suddenly  his  manner  changed. 
He  arose,  and  after  a  slight  inclination  of  the  head  and  a 
meaning  glance  at  Doctor  Claflin,  he  turned  again  to  the 
disciple : 

"  Can  you  meet  us  here  to-morrow,  at  this  hour?  I 
think  it  will  be  to  your  interest,  as  well  as  ours,  for  us  to 
work  in  harmony." 

"  I  will  be  here,"  was  Judson  Carey's  answer. 

The  clergyman  followed  his  distinguished  visitor  to  the 
door,  and  in  order  to  get  rid  of  the  less  distinguished  visitor 
he  also  held  out  his  hand  to  him.  Then,  as  soon  as  he 
was  alone,  he  rang  for  a  servant  and  ordered  a  pot  of 
strong  tea,  to  steady  his  shaken  nerves. 


CHAPTER    LXXVII 

JESSE  had  spotcen  to  thousands  that  day  at  the  noon- 
hour  in  Madison  Square,  and  wherever  he  went  during  the 
afternoon  he  was  followed  by  tireless  crowds.  He  healed 
many  who  were  sick,  and  gave  courage  and  hope  to  many 
who  were  despairing.  But  already  his  friends  were  begin- 
ning to  be  troubled  regarding  the  multitudes  that  pressed 
upon  him;  for  they  gave  him  no  rest,  they  blocked  the 
streets,  and  more  than  once  during  the  afternoon  the  police 
had  been  obliged  to  scatter  them.  When,  late  in  the  day, 
Jesse  entered  the  subway  on  his  homeward  journey  to  Fort 
Lee,  Peter  and  Andrew  were  obliged  to  station  themselves 
at  the  entrance  and  to  beg  the  people  to  leave  their  Master 
in  peace  until  the  morrow,  promising  that  he  would  return 
to  the  city  in  the  morning. 

When  he  was  walking  up  Broadway  in  the  afternoon  an 
officer  had  approached  him,  and,  pointing  to  the  hundreds 
of  men  and  women  in  his  wake,  had  declared  that  street 
parades  were  not  allowed  without  prior  notification  to  the 
police.  Jesse's  answer  was  never  forgotten  by  the  officer, 
who  puzzled  over  it  the  remainder  of  his  life: 

"  Then  I  notify  you  now,  as  a  representative  of  the 
police,  that  men  will  follow  me  in  multitudes  for  many 
thousand  years." 

His  person  had  become  so  well-known,  and  the  curiosity 
regarding  him  was  so  intense,  that  he  could  find  no  quiet 
anywhere  save  at  the  house  of  the  Lanes  on  the  other  side 
of  the  river ;  and  even  there  a  guard  of  his  friends  remained 
at  the  gate  until  a  late  hour. 

Going  across  the  ferry  that  night,  the  boat  had  a  decided 
list  to  starboard,  by  the  weight  of  the  people  who  crowded 
into  the  cabin  on  the  side  where  Jesse  was  seated. 

When  they  were  approaching  the  other  shore,  Peter  said: 

"  Master,  where  is  Judson  ?  We  have  not  seen  him  since 
the  forenoon." 

"  He  will  follow  us — in  his  own  time  and  in  his  own 
way,"  was  Jesse's  answer. 

489 


490          THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL 

"  The  Master  is  tired  to-night,"  whispered  John  to 
Nathan  Evans.  "  I  have  never  seen  him  look  so  sad.  Much 
strength  must  have  gone  out  of  him  through  healing  and 
comforting  so  many." 

John  felt  a  hand  laid  on  his  arm,  and  turning  he  saw  the 
troubled  face  of  Marty  White. 

"  I  am  anxious  about  him,"  the  faithful  fellow  sighed. 
"  He  looks  as  if  he  had  some  awful  grief  that  we  don't 
know  about." 

The  eyes  of  Mary  Lane  were  fixed  on  Jesse's  face.  She 
and  Martha  had  followed  him  about  all  day,  as  had  also 
his  mother  and  Mary  Magnus,  until  the  weariness  of  the 
older  woman  had  become  so  apparent  that  Mary  had  per- 
suaded her  to  return  to  their  lodgings  leaning  on  her  arm. 
Rose  Thomas  and  the  other  women  had  also  turned  back  at 
the  entrance  to  the  subway. 

"Why  do  you  look  at  the  Master  like  that?"  Martha 
whispered  to  her  sister.  "  The  day  has  been  one  long  tri- 
umph for  him,  and  you  look  as  if  he  had  met  with  grief." 

"  Maybe  he  has,"  the  girl  replied,  in  a  strange,  awed 
voice. 

"Why,  what  do  you  mean,  Mary?" 

"  I  don't  know,  sister." 

Not  until  after  supper  that  night  did  Judson  reappear, 
saying  that  he  had  eaten  his  evening  meal  in  the  city. 
Though  no  one  asked  him  what  he  had  been  doing  all  the 
day,  he  explained  his  absence  by  a  rush  of  excuses:  he  had 
been  looking  for  an  old  friend  whom  he  wished  to  bring 
to  the  Master;  he  had  been  delayed  by  taking  a  wrong 
path  in  Central  Park;  he  had  been  making  inquiries  about 
public  halls  for  their  future  meetings,  halls  which  could 
be  rented  at  a  less  extravagant  expense  than  Madison  Square 
Garden. 

"  And  where  did  you  get  your  new  clothes  ? "  asked 
Peter. 

Judson  flushed,  and  named  the  place  where  he  had 
bought  them;  but  the  name  made  no  picture  in  the  minds 
of  his  listeners. 

"  It's  a  very  good  shop,"  he  added,  glibly;  "I'll  point  it 
out  to  you  the  next  time  we're  walking  up  Broadway." 


THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL          491 

"  There's  no  use  in  doing  that,"  Peter  answered ;  "  I 
can't  afford  any  new  clothes  this  year."  As  he  said  this,  he 
watched  the  face  of  Judson. 

"Where  did  you  get  the  money  for  new  clothes?  "  An- 
drew inquired.  "  You  told  me  only  the  other  day  that  you 
had  no  money  of  your  own." 

"  I  think,"  Judson  flashed  back,  defiantly,  "  I  think  I 
have  made  sacrifices  enough  to  entitle  me  to  be  dressed 
decently — as  well  as  the  rest  of  you." 

"  And  you  bought  clothes  for  yourself  out  of  the  com- 
mon fund  ?  "  demanded  Peter.  "  What  right  have  you  to 
spend  our  money  in  that  way?  " 

"  I  have  a  right.     It's  mine  as  much  as  yours." 

"  I  say  it  isn't !  You've  acted  like  a  thief !  "  Peter's 
voice  was  loud  and  harsh.  These  simple  men  had  not  been 
trained  in  the  courteous  control  of  their  feelings. 

At  that  moment  Jesse  entered  the  room. 

"  Are  these  my  disciples?  "  he  asked,  gently.  "  Are  these 
the  followers  of  the  Spirit,  quarrelling  among  themselves?  " 

Peter  stated  the  facts  of  the  case  in  a  dozen  quick  words, 
adding,  "And  I  say  that  he  has  acted  like  a  thief." 

"  He  who  accuses  his  fellow  disciple  of  theft  has  himself 
stolen  much  from  the  honour  and  glory  of  discipleship,"  was 
Jesse's  grave  reproof. 

"  But,  Master!  "  Peter's  face  was  long  with  grief.  "  Do 
you  approve  of  his  spending  our  money  on  himself?  " 

"  The  children  of  the  Spirit  are  one  with  the  Spirit  and 
with  each  other.  To  him  whose  heart  is  the  dwelling- 
place  of  Love,  there  is  no  mine  and  thine." 

Had  this  occurred  the  day  before,  Judson  would  have 
rushed  to  Jesse's  side  and  pressed  his  hand;  but  now  he 
only  gazed  his  thanks  and  exulted  in  his  triumph. 

About  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening  the  household  was 
surprised  by  the  appearance  of  Mary  Bethel  and  Mary 
Magnus.  The  face  of  Jesse's  mother  was  drawn  and  white. 

"  My  son,"  she  said,  going  to  him  and  laying  her  worn 
hands  pathetically  upon  his  heart,  "  I  could  not  remain 
away  from  you  this  night!  An  irresistible  impulse  drew  me 
to  come  and  touch  your  breast,  your  hands,  your  face.  You 
will  not  send  me  away  ?  " 


492          THE   SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"  I  will  not  send  you  away,  little  Mother.  I  also  felt 
that  we  were  to  see  each  other  this  night." 

He  led  her  to  his  own  room,  where  they  might  talk  more 
freely  than  in  the  company  of  the  others.  Mary  Magnus, 
whose  eyes  were  burning  with  unutterable  pain,  would 
have  remained  behind;  but  Jesse  called  her. 

"You,  who  are  the  never-tiring  comforter  of  my  mother 
in  her  hours  of  separation  from  me,  may  not  be  shut  out 
when  she  is  with  me,"  he  said,  laying  his  hand  tenderly 
upon  her  bowed  head,  as  if  she  had  been  a  child. 

It  was  the  only  caress  he  had  ever  offered  her,  save  the 
one  she  had  shared  with  Anna  Martin  on  the  night  of  the 
making  of  their  first  song,  and  she  treasured  the  memory 
of  it  always.  * 

They  sat  down  together  on  a  sofa  in  the  dimly-lighted 
room,  the  mother  on  one  side  of  Jesse  and  Mary  on  the 
other.  For  a  few  moments  there  was  no  word  spoken,  Mary 
Bethel  gazing  up  into  her  son's  face  with  eyes  of  appealing 
love  and  sorrow,  and  the  younger  woman  looking  across  at 
her  with  pitying  tenderness.  Then  Jesse  said: 

"  The  most  devoted  soul  that  has  not  fortitude  is  like 
the  flame  of  a  candle  shaken  in  the  wind." 

"  Do  you  speak  to  me  impersonally,  my  son,  in  order 
that  I  may  be  brave?  Fear  not — I  shall  not  waver." 

"  He  who  fears  pain  will  never  know  the  ultimate  joy, 
for  the  price  of  it  is  pain." 

"  Jesse,  I  feel  that  you,  too,  are  suffering  to-night.  It 
was  that  thought  which  called  me  to  you.  When  you  were 
a  child  you  used  to  bring  all  your  little  troubles  and  lay 
them  on  your  mother's  heart.  Can  she  not  help  you  now 
to  bear  this  greater  trouble,  whatever  it  is  ?  " 

"  He  who  leans  much  upon  anything,"  he  answered, 
"  even  the  heart  of  love,  has  not  attained  mastership.  But 
your  presence  is  sweetly  comforting  to  me." 

It  was  the  assurance  she  craved,  and  her  eyes  filled  with 
happy  tears.  He  was  still  her  baby,  her  little  one,  though 
thousands  looked  up  to  him  as  to  a  strong  tower,  built  to 
endure  the  earthquake  and  the  tempest.  Her  apprehensions 
for  the  coming  days  were  vague,  and  now  that  she  felt  the 
comfort  of  his  living  presence  she  caught  at  the  flying  skirts 
of  Hope. 

"  When  we  are  back  again  together  in  quiet  Myra,  Jesse, 


THE   SON   OF   MARY   BETHEL          493 

these  days  of  stress  and  turmoil  will  seem  like  a  dream  that 
is  past,  will  they  not,  dear?  " 

He  pressed  her  hand,  but  made  no  answer.  At  that  mo- 
ment he  had  not  the  courage  to  remind  her  of  their  talk  in 
Capronville,  when  she  had  accepted  as  inevitable  the  trag- 
edy which  he  foresaw.  Let  her  enjoy  her  little  hour  of 
quiet  happiness  with  him. 

"  Mother,  do  you  remember  how  twenty  years  ago,  about 
this  time  in  the  spring,  we  went  to  Nash's  hill  to  gather 
the  trailing  arbutus — you  and  I  ?  " 

"  How  well  I  do  remember,  Jesse !  I  can  close  my  eyes 
and  see  you,  just  as  you  looked  that  afternoon,  in  the  blue 
blouse  trimmed  with  braid  which  I  had  made  for  you  from 
the  skirt  of  my  poplin  dress,  turned  wrong-side  out.  How 
pleased  you  were  with  it!" 

"  You  were  always  a  wonder  with  your  needle,  Mother. 
That  blouse  was  very  pretty,  and  all  the  dearer  to  me  for 
my  having  seen  you  wear  the  dress  so  many  times.  Do  you 
remember,  also,  how  we  sat  together  on  the  ground  under 
the  maple-tree  and  made  a  big  bouquet  of  arbutus  for  old 
Mrs.  Brown,  who  was  sick?" 

"  Was  it  a  maple-tree  we  sat  under?" 

"  Yes,  for  I  remember  the  colour  of  the  buds.  We  sat 
facing  the  west,  and  there  was  a  large  white  cloud  in  the 
sky,  just  above  the  setting  sun, — a  cone-shaped  cloud,  with 
a  curl  of  vapour  like  rising  smoke  above  it,  and  under  it  a 
redness  as  of  fire.  And  I  told  you  it  was  a  new  volcano 
which  had  been  thrown  up  beyond  the  Adirondacks.  In 
fancy,  we  planned  a  pilgrimage  that  we  would  make  to  this 
mountain  of  flame — then  the  cloud  changed  its  shape,  the 
fire  beneath  it  faded  into  grey  ashes,  the  air  grew  chilly, 
and  we  went  home." 

"  Why  ...  I  believe  ...  Jesse,  I  do  remem- 
ber that  cloud !  "  And  she  laughed  joyously,  for  the  first 
time  in  many  weeks. 

Mary  Magnus  listened  to  this  talk  between  the  mother 
and  son,  looking  from  one  to  the  other  through  a  mist  of 
unshed  tears.  Intuitively  she  knew  why  Jesse's  mind  went 
back  this  night  to  the  scenes  of  his  happy  childhood.  She 
knew,  too,  why  he  led  his  mother's  thoughts  away  from  the 
uncertain  present  to  wander  in  the  byways  of  the  past. 

"  And  you,  my  sister,"  he  said,  turning  to  her  with  a 


494          THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL 

soft  and  melancholy  smile,  "you,  too,  remember  childhood 
days  in  old  Nashburgh  ...  the  rocky  pasture  north 
of  the  schoolhouse  where  we  played  with  the  other  chil- 
dren .  .  .  the  rainy  noon-hour  when  I  told  you  fairy- 
stories." 

"  I  remember  every  hour  I  spent  in  Nashburgh,  Jesse." 

"  I  wish  my  brothers  were  here  with  us  to-night.  It 
would  make  me  happy  to  see  Fred  and  Henry  again." 

"  Shall  I  not  write  them  to  come  down  ?  "  asked  Mary 
Bethel,  quickly.  "  I'm  sure  they  would  be  glad  to  come." 

"  No,  Mother     ...     not  yet." 

"Next  week,  maybe?"  Her  mouth  was  tremulous  with 
love  and  hope. 

"  Next  week!  .  .  .  Yes,  dear,  you  may  write  to 
the  boys  .  .  .  next  week." 

"Why  has  your  face  grown  suddenly  so  white,  Jesse?" 

"  I  am  a  little  tired  to-night ;  you  know  I  have  been 
preaching  and  walking  about  all  day.  .  .  .  But  let  me 
forget  my  weariness  in  thinking  of  the  happy,  far-away  days 
in  the  old  home." 

He  reminded  her  of  a  score  of  things  she  had  half-for- 
gotten, drawing  her  mind  with  him  back  into  the  past  and 
holding  it  there,  lest  any  troubling  thought  of  the  future 
should  break  in  upon  their  idyl.  For  more  than  an  hour 
they  sat  talking  together  in  the  little  room;  then  he  re- 
minded her  that  she  had  need  of  rest,  that  she  might  be 
fresh  and  strong  to  join  him  on  the  morrow. 

During  all  this  time  the  younger  woman  had  hardly 
spoken.  She  accepted  the  privilege  of  being  there  as  a 
gift  from  Jesse's  heart.  To  sit  beside  him,  and  to  listen  to 
his  tender  discourse  with  the  mother  she  had  grown  to 
love,  were  enough  of  happiness  for  Mary  now.  But  when 
the  moment  came  for  parting,  she  trembled  so  that  she  was 
obliged  to  lean  against  the  wall.  Even  the  relief  of  tears 
was  denied  to  her  overwrought  feelings,  for  tears  would 
have  saddened  the  mother  whom  her  chosen  task  was  to 
comfort  and  sustain. 

Far  into  the  night  she  knelt  beside  her  window,  gazing 
into  the  eyes  of  the  indifferent  stars. 


CHAPTER   LXXVIII 

THE  weather  continued  warm,  and  still  Jesse  and  the 
men  who  followed  him  went  out  each  night  to  sleep  under 
the  open  sky,  with  the  ever-softening  turf  for  a  couch.  The 
moon  was  young  and  fragile,  and  bade  them  an  early  good- 
night. 

Thursday  morning  the  sun  arose  again  in  a  cloudless 
sky.  When  the  men  awoke  and  turned  to  look  for  their 
Master,  they  saw  him  sitting  quietly  upon  a  rock,  his  chin 
in  his  hand,  gazing  eastward  toward  the  city.  John  came 
and  stood  beside  him;  but  so  concentrated  was  the  Master's 
thought  that  for  a  time  he  did  not  perceive  the  presence  of 
the  other.  Then  he  turned  his  head,  and  motioned  John 
to  sit  down  with  him  on  the  rock. 

"Have  you  been  here  long,  Master?" 

"  Half  an  hour,  maybe;  but  in  that  time  I  have  drawn 
away  another  veil  from  the  face  of  the  great  mystery  of 
life.  If  I  could  only  make  you  realise  what  may  be  ac- 
complished in  one  half-hour  of  meditation!  The  protracted 
sojourn  in  the  wilderness  is  not  necessary  for  every  disciple; 
each  day  you  may  ascend  for  a  time  the  solitary  mountain 
of  thought.  From  this  time  forth,  do  that.  For  half  an 
hour  each  day,  retire  to  some  place  of  seclusion  and  medi- 
tate upon  your  unity  with  me,  with  the  Spirit,  with  all  that 
is.  Try  to  realise  that  you  are  the  calm,  imperishable  One, 
and  not  this  body  of  warring  sensations  or  this  mind  of 
broken  reflections.  Of  all  the  teachings  I  have  ever  given 
you,  this  is  the  most  important." 

"  And  I  will  follow  it,  Master,  from  this  time  forth, 
every  day.  But  I  have  already  gone  far  toward  conquering 
the  warring  sensations  of  the  body;  I  am  far  beyond  those 
who  live  only  in  their  senses." 

Jesse  turned  and  looked  at  him. 

"  That  is  well,  John,  so  far  as  it  goes.  But  do  not 
exalt  yourself  because  you  have  conquered  one,  or  even  all, 
of  your  five  senses.  Go  further:  conquer  the  sense  of  per- 
sonal exaltation  on  account  of  purity." 

495 


496          THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL 

At  that  moment  they  were  joined  by  the  others,  who  had 
always  looked  with  jealous  eyes  upon  John's  many  secret 
councils  with  the  Master.  Then  they  all  went  to  the  house 
to  bathe  and  breakfast. 

Judson  was,  as  usual,  the  first  to  ask  for  the  newspapers; 
to  him  the  utterances  of  the  press  regarding  the  Master 
and  his  followers  were  of  ever-increasing  fascination.  This 
morning  he  turned  from  printed  sheet  to  printed  sheet  with 
clouded  brow  and  eyes  of  trouble.  When  Martha  came  to 
the  sitting-room  to  tell  them  that  breakfast  was  ready,  he 
carried  the  papers  with  him  to  the  table.  He  was  never  a 
hearty  eater,  but  now  he  scarcely  touched  his  food,  passing 
from  one  journal  to  another  in  quest  of  crumbs  of  com- 
fort for  his  wounded  pride. 

"What  do  they  say  about  us  this  morning?"  Andrew 
asked. 

Judson  pushed  the  papers  toward  him,  saying,  "  Read  for 
yourself." 

"  Andrew  may  read  for  all  of  us,"  Jesse  said ;  "  but  do 
not  allow  your  souls  to  be  deafened  by  the  buzzing  of  all 
these  mosquitoes  from  the  stagnant  marshes  of  material- 
ism. .  .  .  Read  the  one  you  have  in  your  hand,  An- 
drew." 

It  was  an  editorial  from  a  paper  in  which  John  Need- 
ham  owned  a  controlling  interest,  though  this  fact  was 
unknown  to  Jesse  and  his  friends.  This  is  what  Andrew 
read: 

"  A  DANGEROUS  FANATIC 

"This  journal  is  not  given  to  prophecy;  but  we  wish  to  record 
our  belief  that  the  spectacular  agitation  of  the  long-haired  prophet 
•who  blasphemously  calls  himself  '  the  mouthpiece  of  the  Spirit '  will 
end  in  some  deplorable  scence  of  lawlessness  and  disorder. 

"  We  are  glad  to  learn  that  the  Park  Commissioner  has  refused 
to  permit  his  much-advertised  meeting  in  Union  Square  at  three 
o'clock  this  afternoon,  and  that  the  police  have  orders  to  prevent 
his  speaking  there,  should  he  attempt  to  disobey  the  law  by  going 
against  the  decision  of  those  in  authority.  The  outcome  remains  to 
be  seen. 

"  The  following  which  this  mouther  of  meaningless  paradoxes  has 
gained  with  a  certain  class  of  the  population  of  our  city  is  an 
illuminating  commentary  on  the  gullibility  of  humankind.  In  any 
age,  a  man  who  claims  to  raise  the  dead,  to  make  the  lame  walk 


THE   SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          497 

and  the  crooked  to  stand  upright,  can  find  plenty  of  sensation-loving 
ignoramuses  to  swallow  greedily  his  assertions  that  man  needs  noth- 
ing for  his  health  beyond  a  belief  that  he  is  healthy,  and  that  the 
moon  is  made  of  green  cheese.  Though  the  educated  and  progres- 
sive portion  of  humanity  has  long  ago  outgrown  the  geocentric 
system  of  astronomy  and  the  belief  in  the  potency  of  love-philtres, 
yet  survivors  from  the  dark  ages  still  practise  their  hocus-pocus,  and 
the  traffic  in  charms  and  talismans  continues  to  be  profitable. 

"  If  a  bold  twentieth  century  journal  may  presume  to  offer  in- 
struction to  an  exalted  being  who  modestly  (and  we  hope  blush- 
Ingly)  accepts  from  his  hypnotised  followers  the  modern  equivalent 
of  divine  honours,  who  sends  his  henchmen  to  the  newspapers  to 
whisper  confidentially  that  their  master  is  God  himself,  we  would 
remind  Jesse  Bethel  that  while  the  iridescent  soap-bubble  of  his 
divinity  may  float  harmlessly  above  the  meadows  of  his  native 
valley,  in  the  crowded  ways  of  the  mammon-loving  metropolis  it 
may  blow  violently  against  some  towering  obstruction,  and  be  shat- 
tered. 

"  We  are  told  that,  before  he  discovered  that  he  was  an  Avatar, 
he  worked  successfully  at  the  honest  trade  of  carpentry.  Therefore, 
we  have  no  doubt  that,  if  his  anarchistic  principles  would  permit 
him  to  join  a  trade-union,  he  could  find  lucrative  employment,  should 
he  insist  on  remaining  with  us.  On  the  whole,  a  clear-headed  work- 
man is  far  safer  on  the  scaffolding  of  a  house  than  in  the  vanguard 
of  a  revolution — spiritual  or  political." 


Andrew  laid  down  the  paper.  His  face  was  white,  and 
his  eyes  were  full  of  angry  tears. 

"  How  dare  they ! "  he  cried. 

"  I  do  not  understand  why,"  said  John,  "  if  they  are 
against  the  meeting  in  Union  Square  this  afternoon,  they 
call  attention  to  it  by  an  editorial !  " 

Jesse's  eyes  were  sad,  but  his  lips  smiled  as  he  answered: 

"The  ways  of  the  wolf  are  not  always  understood  by 
the  sheep.  Our  adversaries  are  even  more  desirous  than 
are  we  that  the  meeting  should  take  place." 

"  But  will  it?  "  Peter's  face  was  lined  with  care. 

"  When  the  clock  comes  round  to  three,  that  square  will 
be  packed  with  people." 

"And  shall  you  be  there,  Master?" 

"  I  have  said  that  I  would  be  there." 

"Oh,  Jesse,  do  not  try  to  speak!"  cried  Marty  White, 
and  James  Dana  echoed  him. 


498          THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL 

"  I  shall  in  no  way  disobey  the  law,  as  interpreted  by 
those  who  enforce  it,"  was  Jesse's  quiet  answer. 

"  But  why  go  there  at  all  ?  "  demanded  another  of  the 
men,  from  the  far  end  of  the  table,  one  who  was  usually 
silent  but  none  the  less  devoted. 

"  I  go  because  that  square  is  one  of  the  stations  on  my 
journey  to  .  .  ."  He  left  the  sentence  unfinished. 

"  It  is  a  hard  way  which  we  have  chosen  to  walk,"  sighed 
Judson ;  then  he  shut  his.  lips  together. 

Jesse  looked  at  him  gravely,  until  the  man  dropped  his 
eyes.  He  said : 

"  Never  complain  of  the  roughness  of  the  road,  save  to 
the  one  of  whom  you  would  ask  a  ride." 

Judson  turned  and  went  out  to  the  kitchen,  making  an 
excuse  to  refill  the  empty  water-pitcher.  Could  Jesse  know 
of  his  interview  with  John  Needham?  Impossible!  Yet 
one  week  ago  he  would  have  stoutly  proclaimed  that  Jesse 
could  read  the  thoughts  of  others.  After  filling  the  pitcher 
at  the  faucet,  he  let  the  cold,  refreshing  water  flow  over 
his  hands;  it  seemed  to  restore  his  equilibrium.  When  he 
returned  to  the  dining-room  he  was  again  able  to  look 
Jesse  in  the  face,  as  he  refilled  his  glass. 

"  May  all  the  cups  you  give  me  to  drink,  Judson,  be  as 
pure  and  health-giving  as  this  one." 

Then  the  inherent  coarseness  of  the  man  came  out.  "  Do 
you  think  I  am  going  to  poison  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

Jesse  made  no  answer,  and  Judson  turned  and  walked 
away  to  the  sitting-room,  his  face  dark  with  anger.  A  few 
minutes  later,  when  they  started  for  the  city,  he  went  along 
with  them  as  if  nothing  had  happened;  but  the  contending 
powers  of  light  and  darkness  made  twilight  in  his  soul. 

As  Jesse  passed  through  the  crowd  outside  the  ferry- 
house  on  the  New  York  side  of  the  river,  he  was  approached 
by  a  messenger-boy  who  handed  him  a  letter.  Raising  his 
eyes  at  that  moment,  he  met  the  eyes  of  John  Needham's 
son;  the  young  man  was  seated  in  his  motor  car,  and 
though  he  did  not  alight  nor  approach  Jesse,  he  bared  his 
head  respectfully.  In  another  moment  the  car  moved  on, 
and  Jesse  broke  the  seal  of  the  letter  and  read: 

"My  honoured  Master; 

"Though  I  am  unworthy  to  be  called  your  disciple,  still  must  I 
address  you  as  Master,  for  that  you  are  to  me. 


THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL          499 

"This  letter  is  to  warn  you.  It  has  come  to  my  knowledge— it 
matters  not  how— that  there  is  a  powerful  conspiracy  to  end  your 
preaching  in  New  York  city.  I  beg  of  you,  do  not  attempt  to 
speak  in  Union  Square  this  afternoon — unless  you  are  physically 
stronger  than  a  squadron  of  police.  If  you  disobey  the  peremptory 
— and,  as  I  believe,  illegal — orders  of  those  in  authority,  I  fear  that 
your  very  life  will  be  in  danger.  I,  and  I  only  among  your  friends, 
know  the  poster  of  those  who  are  determined  to  crush  you.  They 
are  many  times  stronger  than  I. 

"It  grieves  me  to  grieve  you;  but  there  is  one  among  your 
intimate  disciples  who  is  already  disloyal,  and  will  be  tempted  to 
still  greater  disloyalty. 

"  Will  you  not  let  me  save  you?  The  captain  of  my  yacht,  which 

is  lying  at  the  foot  of  West  Street,  has  orders  to  take  you, 

with  eleven  of  your  friends,  anywhere  you  may  wish  to  go,  at  any 
hour,  day  or  night,  during  the  next  few  days.  If  you  remain  in 
the  city,  I  am  powerless.  The  lion  is  mightier  than  his  whelp,  and 
the  jackals  have  given  the  signal. 

"  Yours  in  faith  and  devotion,  D.  N." 


Jesse  twisted  the  letter  between  his  fingers,  and  asking 
a  match  from  Peter,  burned  it  then  and  there;  though  the 
writer  had  delicately  refrained  from  requesting  its  destruc- 
tion. His  eyes  filled  with  tears  of  human  longing  as  he 
thought  of  the  yacht  anchored  off  the  neighbouring  dock, 
thought  of  the  fresh  sea-breezes,  of  the  boundless  peace  be- 
tween the  ocean  and  the  sky,  and,  more  than  all,  of  the 
love  which  prompted  the  princely  offer.  But  security  and 
peace  were  not  the  prizes  he  had  come  into  the  world  to 
win. 

He  passed  the  forenoon  quietly  in  Central  Park.  His 
mother  and  the  other  women  had  joined  him  at  the  ferry, 
as  usual;  and  again,  as  usual,  many  children  gathered 
around  him  as  he  sat  on  a  bench  beneath  a  spreading  tree. 
He  did  not  preach  this  morning;  but  those  who  came  to 
ask  him  questions  were  not  sent  away  unanswered,  nor  did 
he  refuse  any  who  begged  his  healing  touch.  When  noon- 
time came,  they  ate  their  luncheon  from  the  baskets  pro- 
vided by  the  faithiul  Martha;  and  a  little  later,  as  Jesse 
glanced  around  the  circle  of  .his  friends,  he  saw  that  one  of 
them  was  missing.  Judson  had  stolen  away  to  keep  his 
appointment  with  John  Needham  and  the  Reverend  Doc- 
tor Claflin. 

It  was  a  strange  hour  which  those  three  men  spent  to- 


500          THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL 

gather.  The  power  of  darkness  in  the  soul  of  the  waver- 
ing disciple  had  gained  ascendency  over  the  power  of  light. 
The  inevitable  tempter  that  comes  to  all  came  now  to  him 
in  an  alluring  form,  assailing  the  citadel  of  his  character 
at  the  point  where  it  was  weakest.  Why  should  he  not 
seize  power  .and  gold,  the  tempter  whispered,  making  clear 
to  him  that  the  being  of  light  who  had  been  his  master  was 
already  doomed.  From  the  ruins  of  the  falling  temple 
should  he  not  gather  a  few  stones — enough  to  build  a  dwell- 
ing for  himself?  The  devil  pays  his  servants  well,  and  the 
labour  he  assigns  them  is  never  beyond  their  strength.  And 
the  devil  always  offers  a  generous  retainer,  a  reminder  that 
the  fees  in  full  are  well  worth  working  to  acquire. 

When  Judson  left  the  presence  of  his  new  associates,  had 
he  chosen  to  array  himself  in  the  most  expensive  garments 
he  would  not  have  been  obliged  to  appropriate  the  where- 
withal from  the  humble  treasury  he  carried  in  trust,  as  on 
the  previous  day. 

Left  alone  together,  John  Needham  and  Doctor  Claflin 
looked  into  each  other's  eyes  and  smiled.  Then  the  clergy- 
man shook  his  head  in  doubt. 

"Do  you  not  realise,  Mr.  Needham,  that  the  nightly 
camping-place  of  this  man  is  across  the  river  in  the  State 
of  New  Jersey ;  that  our  police  have  no  jurisdiction  there  ?  " 

Again  came  the  little  wave  of  the  hand  with  which  the 
acquaintances  of  the  multimillionaire  were  so  familiar. 

"  Do  not  trouble  yourself  about  that,"  he  said.  "  This 
fascinating  prophet  of  ours  is  doubtless  better  versed  in  the 
laws  of  paradox  than  in  the  laws  of  States.  There  will  be 
no  resistance." 

"  But  why  do  you  not  seize  him  on  the  spot  this  after- 
noon ?  " 

"  And  precipitate  a  real  riot?  No,  no,  my  friend.  I  am 
a  man  of  peace."  And  the  steely  eyes  twinkled  under  their 
overhanging  brows. 

Doctor  Claflin  walked  up  and  down  the  study  floor. 
Then  he  stood  still,  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

"Fancy  that  man — Judson  Carey — going  calmly  and 
smilingly  over  to  eat  dinner  with  his  friends  this  evening! 
I  would  have  spared  him  that,  had  I  been  you." 

"  But  it  pleases  my  sense  of  humour,  Doctor.     Did  you 


THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL          501 

ever  watch  a  cat  at  its  merry  play  with  a  mouse?  This 
mouse  of  ours  will  not  escape  my  long,  sharp,  golden  claws. 
Then,  too,  I  want  to  make  sure  of  the  actual  whereabouts 
of  the  more  important  prey.  The  man  will  not  return  to 
me  until  his  tired  associates  are  settled  for  the  night." 
John  Needham  chuckled.  "  Now  this  little  game  is  better 
sport  than  my  famous  acquisition  of  the  Croly  Railroad. 

"  But  come,"  he  added,  "  we  will  now  go  down  to  my 
friend's  office,  in  a  tall  building  overlooking  Union  Square, 
and  watch  the  next  move  in  the  proceedings." 

"  If  you'll  excuse  me,  I'll  stay  where  I  am,"  declared  the 
clergyman,  whose  eyes  were  clouded  with  anxiety.  "  You 
can  telephone  me." 

"  As  you  like,"  replied  the  financier. 

Then  he  shook  hands  with  his  colleague,  and  hurried  out 
to  his  motor  car  which  waited  before  the  door.  When 
with  Doctor  Claflin,  he  had  spoken  lightly  of  the  matter 
in  hand;  but  now,  when  alone  again  in  the  impersonal 
streets,  his  face  was  set  in  deep,  grave  lines.  The  night  be- 
fore he  had  had  an  interview  with  his  only  son,  a  stormy 
interview,  which  had  placed  the  final  seal  upon  his  deter- 
mination to  remove  Jesse  Bethel  from  his  path  and  from 
the  path  of  his  son. 

"  If  I  can  ruin  a  railroad,  and  buy  it  cheap,"  he  mut- 
tered to  himself,  "  can  I  not  ruin  a  prophet,  and  buy  up  his 
disciples?  " 


CHAPTER  LXXIX 

IT  lacked  a  few  minutes  of  three  o'clock  when  Jesse 
came  down  Broadway  into  Union  Square;  but  his  progress 
was  slow.  The  people,  by  thousands,  surged  toward  the 
square  from  all  the  neighbouring  streets.  One  might  pass 
along  with  them,  but  it  was  not  easy  to  pass  through  them, 
for  when  those  in  his  neighbourhood  discovered  Jesse,  they 
tried  to  crowd  round  him  instead  of  toward  the  original 
centre.  Finally,  in  desperation,  his  companions  forced  a 
wedge-like  opening  in  the  wall  of  human  beings,  and  Jesse 
went  through.  Foremost  among  the  men  at  this  moment 
was  Judson  Carey,  who  had  been  waiting  for  them  on 
Broadway,  just  north  of  the  square.  He*  now  urged  the 
others  on;  never  had  he  been  so  active. 

John  looked  at  him  suspiciously,  and  said :  "  Where 
have  you  been  since  you  disappeared  from  the  park?  " 

"  Questioning  the  police,  trying  to  learn  why  Jesse  is 
not  allowed  to  speak;  but  I  can  get  no  information  except 
that  it's  their  orders." 

The  answer  was  satisfactory  to  the  mind,  but  not  to  the 
instinct  of  the  faithful  John.  He  repeated  Judson's  words 
to  Jesse,  who  made  no  comment. 

Slowly  they  made  their  way  down  the  west  side  of  the 
square  to  the  drinking-fountain ;  there  Jesse  paused,  and 
dividing  the  twelve  men,  he  sent  them  right  and  left 
through  the  crowd  to  tell  the  people  that  the  Master 
could  not  speak  to  them  that  afternoon,  having  been  for- 
bidden by  the  police.  Meanwhile,  Jesse  waited  alone,  for 
he  had  refused  to  allow  his  mother  and  the  other  women 
to  follow  him  to  the  square.  Several  officers  were  posted 
around  him,  keeping  clear  of  people  the  little  circle  in  which 
he  stood.  Charmed  by  his  indescribable  sad  smile,  one  of 
these  uniformed  men  stepped  up  to  him. 

"  I'm  sorry  we  have  to  upset  your  plans,"  he  said,  cor- 
dially; "but  the  city  is  full  just  now  of  unemployed  men 
and  vagrants  of  all  sorts,  and  we  have  to  watch  out  for 
trouble." 

502 


THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL          503 

"  But  I  am  myself  a  vagrant,"  Jesse  answered. 

The  man  laughed,  taking  the  words  for  a  joke;  then, 
seeing  the  grave  look  in  Jesse's  eyes,  he  said: 

"You're  a  strange  sort  of  man.  I  heard  you  speak  the 
other  night  in  Madison  Square  Garden,  and  I  was  specially 
interested  in  what  you  said  about  the  chicken  broth.  Now 
I've  seen  that  same  thing  a  thousand  times,  and  it  never 
meant  anything  to  me." 

"  Does  this  crowd  here  this  afternoon  mean  anything  to 
you?" 

"  It  means  a  hard  day's  work." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"  I  dunno." 

They  were  standing  with  their  backs  to  the  west,  and 
the  afternoon  sun  shone  down  obliquely  into  the  eyes  of  the 
multitudes  that  were  gazing  at  them. 

"  Look,"  Jesse  said, — "  look  into  the  myriad  eyes  of 
those  human  beings  there.  You  will  see  the  same  thing 
I  saw  on  the  surface  of  my  broth." 

"  Well,  I'll  be  blowed!  "  exclaimed  the  officer.  "You'd 
think  there  were  a  thousand  suns  down  there,  too." 

"  So  there  are.  And  it  is  because  I  recognise  the  light 
in  them  that  they  have  come  out  this  afternoon  to  see  and 
hear  me." 

The  officer  looked  straight  into  his  eyes. 

"  Say,  you're  not  going  to  make  us  any  trouble,  are  you  ? 
I'd  hate  almightily  to  use  any  kind  of  force  with  you !  " 

"  I  shall  not  give  you  any  trouble.  You  and  your  com- 
panions are  stationed  here  to  guard  me,  are  you  not?  to 
keep  the  crowd  from  coming  near?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  there  are  other  officers  here  on  other  business, 
I'm  sorry  to  say." 

Behind  them  was  the  short  flight  of  stone  steps  leading 
up  to  one  of  the  spouts  of  the  drinking-fountain. 

"  Shall  I  cause  you  any  trouble  if  I  take  a  little  of  that 
water?  I  am  thirsty." 

"  Drink  away.  I'd  get  it  for  you,  only  the  chain  of  the 
cup  isn't  long  enough." 

When  Jesse  had  drunk  of  the  water  and  turned  to  de- 
scend the  steps,  facing  the  crowd  and  elevated  a  little  above 
them,  from  a  thousand  throats  a  mighty  roar  went  up: 


504         THE   SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"  Speak,  speak !"..."  We  want  to  hear  you." 
.  .  .  .  "  Don't  mind  the  cops."  ..."  Hurrah  for 
Jesse  Bethel !"..."  Hurrah  for  the  poor  man's 
friend!"  .  .  .  "  Speak,  speak !"  .  .  .  "  We've  come 
to  listen."  ..."  Hurrah  for  you ! "  .  .  . 

Then  came  a  sudden  clatter  of  horses'  hoofs,  and  a  loud, 
prolonged,  inarticulate  howl  from  those  same  throats,  as 
a  platoon  of  mounted  police  charged  into  the  crowd,  scat- 
tering the  people  right  and  left  and  backward.  Clubs  were 
swung,  hats  were  knocked  off,  and  even  heads  were  dam- 
aged. Bellowing  like  a  herd  of  cattle,  the  surprised  thou- 
sands ran  before  the  onslaught;  men  and  women,  and  even 
little  children,  screaming  and  crying,  were  driven  back — 
back  toward  the  east,  the  north,  the  south,  anywhere  out  of 
the  square,  which  the  police  had  been  ordered  to  clear. 
All  the  pain  and  rage  of  baffled  and  conquered  humanity 
were  in  that  roar  of  ten  thousand  voices. 

The  little  circle  of  guardian  police  closed  around  Jesse, 
but  not  a  hand  was  laid  on  him,  not  a  word  of  reproach  was 
spoken  to  him.  With  his  eyes  wet  with  tears,  he  touched 
the  arms  of  the  nearest  officers. 

"  Did  I  cause  that — that  cruelty — by  going  up  there  to 
drink?" 

"No,  no,"  replied  the  man  with  whom  he  had  been 
talking  a  moment  before.  "  You  only  hastened  it,  maybe. 
They'd  had  their  orders." 

"  But  my  friends  are  among  those  people,  my  compan- 
ions, my  faithful  ones !  " 

"  Don't  take  it  so  hard,  sir.  They'll  find  their  way 
back  to  you.  We're  not  going  to  keep  this  square  closed 
off  until  the  Judgment  Day." 

As  the  crowd  was  driven  farther  and  farther  back,  the 
guardian  officers  moved  a  little  away  from  Jesse,  so  that 
his  form  was  plainly  visible  from  all  sides.  This  was  to 
show  such  of  the  flying  people  as  were  able  to  look  back 
that  no  harm  had  been  done  to  him.  Having  quelled  a 
non-existent  riot,  they  had  been  warned  not  to  precipitate 
a  real  riot  by  any  show  of  danger  to  the  man  who  was 
idolised  by  the  crowd. 

For  a  short  time  no  one  was  permitted  to  approach  the 
cleared  square;  then,  one  by  one,  the  scattered  disciples  of 


THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL          505 

the  Master  were  passed  through  the  lines  of  officers.  John 
was  the  first;  he  came  running,  and  catching  Jesse's  hands, 
cried  out  with  joy  at  his  safety.  Then,  from  another  direc- 
tion, Peter  came,  then  Andrew,  and  all  the  others,  including 
Judson  himself,  who  was  loud  in  his  denunciation  of  the 
outrage.  In  fact,  at  the  possibility  of  physical  danger  to 
Jesse,  the  heart  of  the  disloyal  man  triumphed  for  a  mo- 
ment over  his  own  avarice  and  ambition.  With  a  burst  of 
genuine  feeling  he  pressed  the  hand  of  his  Master,  who 
suffered  the  caress  in  silence.  Had  Jesse  at  that  moment 
singled  him  out  from  the  others  by  any  show  of  preference, 
he  might  not  have  had  the  courage  or  the  will  to  carry  his 
treachery  any  further.  But  the  moment  passed,  and  Jesse 
turned  away,  leaning  his  arms  wearily  upon  the  shoulders 
of  John  and  Peter. 

"  If  you  men  have  a  home,"  said  one  of  the  officers,  "  I 
advise  you  to  go  to  it  now.  The  people  are  beginning  to 
straggle  back  into  the  square,  and  we  don't  want  any  more 
trouble." 

"  Come,"  said  Jesse  to  his  companions.  "  We  will  go  at 
once  to  the  house  where  my  mother  is,  before  any  rumour 
of  this  disturbance  reaches  her." 

On  the  way  up,  every  man  had  his  own  story  of  the  out- 
rage to  repeat  to  Jesse.  "  I  saw  a  woman  with  a  child  run 
over  and  trampled  by  the  crowd,"  said  Peter.  Andrew  had 
seen  a  man  knocked  senseless  by  a  policeman's  club.  Philip 
had  himself  been  bruised  against  a  railing,  as  a  mounted 
officer  came  charging  down  the  sidewalk.  But  however  the 
stories  varied  in  detail,  their  substance  was  the  same,  and 
Jesse's  heart  grew  sick  within  him. 

"  Tell  me  no  more,"  he  said.  "  I  would  forget,  for  a 
few  hours  at  least,  the  cruelty  of  mankind." 

Peter's  matter-of-fact  mind  was  struggling  with  a  ques- 
tion. 

"  Master,  what  sin  against  the  Spirit  have  those  poor  men 
and  women  committed,  that  they  should  be  chased  like 
cattle,  and  some  of  them  even  hurt,  by  a  brutal  power 
which  they  have  not  the  strength  to  resist  ?  " 

"  Pain  is  not  always  given  as  a  punishment,  nor  pleasure 
as  a  reward.  They  are  the  two  sides  of  the  page  of  sensa- 
tion, in  the  beginning  of  the  Book  of  Life,  which  men  are 


506          THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL 

to  study  and  understand  before  they  pass  on  to  more  per- 
plexing pages." 

But  the  answer  puzzled  Peter  more  than  his  own  ques- 
tion. Seeing  his  troubled  eyes,  Jesse  added: 

"  When  men  suffer,  they  should  pause  and  inquire  as  to 
the  cause  of  their  suffering;  and  when  they  have  found  the 
cause,  they  should  remove  it.  The  wise  physician  relieves 
pain  by  removing  the  cause  of  the  pain." 

"  But  will  they  ever  remove  it,  Master?  " 

"  If  I  did  not  believe  so,  I  would  regret  having  thrust 
upon  my  own  soul  the  awful  burden  of  living." 

When  they  came  to  the  house  where  the  women  lodged, 
Jesse  sent  for  Mary  Magnus  and  told  her  briefly  the 
story  of  the  afternoon. 

"  My  mother  must  not  know  of  this  until  to-morrow," 
he  said.  "  See  that  no  evening  paper  comes  to  her  hand, 
and  tell  the  others  they  must  guard  their  speech  when  in 
her  presence." 

"And  may  she  know  to-morrow,  Jesse?" 

"To-morrow!  .  .  .  Yes,  she  will  inevitably  know 
to-morrow ;  but  let  her  spend  this  night  in  peace.  Where  is 
she  now  ?  " 

"  In  her  bedroom,  lying  down." 

]' Is  she  asleep?" 

"  I  left  her  asleep,  only  a  moment  before  you  came." 

He  turned  to  the  men  who  stood  near,  saying: 

"  Wait  for  me  in  the  sitting-room.  I  will  return  to  you 
in  a  few  minutes." 

Noiselessly  he  entered  his  mother's  bedroom,  closing  the 
door  behind  him.  He  who  could  always  command  sleep 
to  visit  the  pillow  of  the  weary  and  the  sick,  could  hold 
sleep  now  upon  the  eyelids  of  Mary  Bethel.  Peacefully 
as  a  child  she  lay  there,  with  hands  folded  upon  her  breast. 
The  light  from  the  one  window  at  her  head  fell  softly  on 
her  pale  face  and  fragile  form,  and  cast  grey  shadows  down 
the  folds  of  the  loose  white  wrapper  which  reached  beyond 
her  feet.  The  light  hair,  only  softly  touched  with  grey, 
was  like  a  shining  halo  round  her  head. 

Jesse  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  and  gazed  at  her,  his 
face  alight  with  love  and  sorrow  and  pity.  His  mother! 


THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL          507 

Those  worn  hands  had  worked  for  him;  those  frail  arms 
had  been  the  defenders  of  his  infancy,  that  breast  his  shel- 
ter. Hard  was  the  road  those  feet  had  walked  for  him 
of  late,  and  harder  still  the  road  they  soon  must  walk.  How- 
ever great  his  love,  he  could  not  shield  her  from  the  inex- 
orable Law,  which  declares  that  she  who  bears  a  Teacher 
of  mankind  must  pay  the  price  in  pain.  His  mother! 
Though  unborn  generations  should  cover  her  grave  with 
flowers  and  her  name  with  honour,  no  power  could  soften 
for  her  the  hours  which  lay  between  this  peaceful  hour 
of  slumber  and  the  longer  peace  of  death. 

Great  as  his  love  and  pity  were  for  all  humanity,  yet  was 
he  human;  and  the  natural  human  love  of  child  for  parent 
he  had  no  wish  to  lay  aside.  He  was  not  great  by  being 
less  than  other  men,  but  by  being  all  that  men  are  and 
much  more.  The  tears  now  gathering  in  his  eyes  were  for 
his  own  loved  mother — not  the  terrible,  despairing,  uni- 
versal tears  he  had  yet  to  shed  for  his  mission,  and  for  the 
agony  of  all  humanity  held  in  the  grip  of  pitiless  destiny. 

He  did  not  kiss  the  unconscious  woman,  nor  touch  even 
a  fold  of  her  garment.  Noiselessly  as  he  had  entered  the 
room,  he  turned  now  and  left  it. 

At  the  door  of  the  sitting-room  stood  Mary  Magnus, 
her  face  white,  her  eyes  aflame. 

"Are  you  in  danger,  Jesse?" 

"  He  who  speaks  the  truth  to  an  unready  world  is  always 
in  danger,  my  sister." 

"  May  I  go  over  the  river  with  you  to-night?" 

"  You  will  serve  me  best  by  remaining  with  my  mother." 

"And  to-morrow?" 

"  To-morrow  she  will  need  you  even  more  than  to-day." 

With  a  power  of  self-control  which  placed  her  higher 
than  ever  in  his  regard,  she  stood  in  silence,  while  he  said 
good-night  to  the  other  women  and  to  his  cousin  Jim 
Bethel,  who  remained  with  them  in  their  city  lodgings. 
Then,  with  the  twelve  men  behind  him,  he  went  down  the 
stairs  and  out  of  the  house. 


CHAPTER  LXXX 

MARTHA  met  them,  smiling,  in  the  door  of  her  house. 
To  her  had  not  been  given  that  subtle  intuition  that  senses 
trouble  at  a  distance,  and  burdens  the  soul  with  grief  for 
happenings  beyond  the  vision  of  the  eyes. 

"  I've  taken  advantage  of  my  afternoon  at  home,"  she 
said,  "  to  prepare  for  you  an  unusually  good  supper." 

"  I  thank  you,  Martha.     But  where  is  your  sister?  " 

"  Oh !  Mary  is  up-stairs  crying  her  eyes  out — because 
two  and  two  make  four,  I  guess;  for  I  don't  see  any  other 
reason." 

At  that  moment  the  missing  girl  appeared,  red-eyed  and 
trembling,  having  heard  their  voices  at  the  door.  She  ran 
to  Jesse,  who  comforted  and  soothed  her  as  if  she  had  been 
in  years  the  child  she  was  in  heart.  When  she  was  calmer, 
he  said,  with  a  smile  in  which  there  was  no  hint  of  im- 
pending tragedy: 

"  Now  go  and  help  Martha  with  her  supper,  little  one ; 
for  she  is  planning  to  satisfy  our  hunger  to-night  in  a  way 
to  which  we  simple  men  are  unaccustomed." 

Peter  and  the  others  would  have  discussed  the  exciting 
events  of  the  afternoon,  but  Jesse  stopped  them: 

"  This  night,"  he  said,  "  we  will  forget  all  things,  save 
only  the  happy  days  we  have  spent  together.  The  sun  is 
setting  upon  the  troubles  of  the  afternoon,  and  the  troubles 
of  the  future  have  not  yet  begun.  Let  me  rest  a  little 
while  in  the  valley  of  peace,  before  ascending  the  hill  of 
suffering.  Is  it  not  happiness  enough  for  the  present  hour 
that  we  are  here,  all  together?"  The  loving  smile  he  gave 
them  with  the  words  was  treasured  in  their  memory  for 
ever  after. 

That  night  Lawrence  and  his  uncle  had  been  called 
away  from  home  on  business,  and  Martha  had  set  the  long 
dinner  table  for  thirteen  only,  she  and  Mary  to  do  the 
serving.  The  girls  had  placed  flowers  here  and  there  along 
the  board,  and  a  great  fragrant  mass  of  them  before  Jesse's 
plate.  He  buried  his  face  among  the  cool,  sweet  blossoms, 

508 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          509 

then  looked  round  at  the  faces  of  his  spiritual  family.  They 
had  no  regular  places  at  the  table.  This  evening  Peter  was 
on  Jesse's  right  and  John  on  his  left;  Judson  sat  next  to 
James,  who  was  between  him  and  Peter;  Andrew  was  on 
the  left  of  John,  and  beyond  them  were  the  others. 

They  had  never  seen  the  Master's  face  more  radiant 
than  during  the  first  hour  of  the  evening.  Not  even  in  the 
early  care-free  days  of  the  preceding  summer  beside  the  lake 
near  Capronville,  had  he  seemed  more  at  peace.  As  an 
artist  who  is  adding  the  last  brush-strokes  to  an  immortal 
masterpiece,  which  he  has  wrought  with  toil  and  poverty 
and  tears,  joys  in  the  contemplation  of  his  triumphant 
handiwork,  so  Jesse  now  rejoiced  in  the  contemplation  of 
the  masterwork  which  was  his  life — the  ecstatic  vision  of 
his  secret  soul  made  tangible  upon  enduring  canvas,  for  all 
mankind  to  see.  It  was  really  no  more  strange  that  Jesse 
should  know  that  his  masterwork  of  life  was  nearly  finished 
than  that  the  artist  should  know  when  only  the  final  brush- 
stroke remains  to  be  added  to  the  great  picture.  The  soul 
power  which  we  name  intuition  may  be  only  a  more  subtle 
mode  of  reasoning  from  causes  to  effects,  only  the  more 
masterly  logic  of  the  spirit. 

In  that  hour  it  seemed  to  him  possible  that  from  the 
sandy  soil  of  present-day  humanity  should  spring  the  radi- 
ant blossom  of  human  brotherhood,  of  which  his  life  was 
the  seed.  His  soul  was  dizzy  with  the  vision;  it  rose  su- 
perior to  the  remembered  trouble  of  the  past  and  the  dread 
of  the  immediate  future. 

"  O,  children  of  my  faith,"  he  said,  looking  from  one 
to  another  with  love-melting  eyes,  "  how  certain  seems  the 
harvest  of  the  Spirit,  when  such  strong  and  willing  labour- 
ers as  you  stand  ready  with  the  harrow  and  the  sickle! 
Surely  your  faith  will  not  falter  between  the  spring  and  the 
autumn." 

They  thought  he  referred  to  the  autumn  of  the  present 
year,  and  John  cried  joyously: 

"  Will  the  harvest  of  the  Spirit  come  so  soon,  dear  Mas- 
ter? " 

"  The  seasons  of  the  Spirit  do  not  follow  those  of  the 
earth,"  he  answered;  "but  even  with  the  Spirit,  the  sum- 
mer and  autumn  invariably  follow  the  spring." 


510         THE   SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"Then  we  must  wait  a  little  longer?" 

"  You  must  wait,  but  not  in  idleness.  The  field  is  large 
in  which  you  have  to  labour,  and  the  oceans  are  its  fences 
on  the  East  and  on  the  West." 

"  And  must  we  carry  your  message  to  the  West  ?  "  asked 
Peter,  his  face  lighting  with  enthusiasm. 

"  Yes,  and  to  the  North  and  South.  Before  you  have 
cultivated  all  the  ground,  the  harvest-time  will  come. 
Meanwhile,  you  will  listen  for  the  orders  of  the  Spirit  as  a 
servant  listens  for  the  orders  of  his  master." 

"  And  shall  we  hear  the  voice  of  the  Spirit,  the  voice  of 
the  Lord?  "  It  was  James  who  asked  the  question,  breath- 
lessly. 

"  It  may  be  that  if  you  listen,  your  Lord  will  speak  to 
you.  And  if  he  should  speak,  obey  his  orders  though  you 
die  for  it.  But  for  every  Lord  who  sits  above,  a  devil  lurks 
below;  so  be  sure  the  voice  is  that  of  your  Lord  before  you 
do  its  bidding.  If  the  voice  commands  you  to  injure  or 
betray  another,  be  sure  it  is  your  devil  that  speaks,  and  not 
your  Lord." 

At  that  moment  a  change  came  over  Jesse's  face ;  the  joy 
went  out  of  it,  and  a  shadow  fell  between  his  eyes  and 
theirs.  He  was  silent  for  a  little  time — then  he  said: 

"  There  is  one  among  you  to  whom  the  devil  has  spoken, 
one  among  you  who  has  listened  to  the  messenger  of  hell 
— one  who  will  betray  me." 

A  shudder  of  consternation  passed  over  them.  They 
searched  the  faces  of  one  another.  To  whom  had  the  devil 
spoken?  Who  had  knowingly  listened  to  the  treacherous 
voice,  or  had  ignorantly  taken  it  for  the  voice  of  his  Lord? 
Who  among  them  could  betray  the  Master  whom  they 
loved!  Then  every  man  asked  Jesse  if  it  could  be  himself; 
even  the  lips  of  Judson  did  not  falter  as  he  pronounced  the 
question. 

In  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  John  had  thrown  his 
arm  around  the  shoulder  of  Jesse  and  leaned  against  him. 
He  now  whispered  something  which  the  others  did  not  hear, 
nor  did  they  hear  the  answer;  but  they  saw  Jesse  lean  for- 
ward across  the  table,  and  taking  a  choice  morsel  from 
the  dish,  place  it  on  the  plate  before  Judson  Carey.  Then 
he  quietly  said  to  the  man  whom  he  had  fed: 


THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL          51 1 

"What  the  soul  has  chosen,  that  must  the  man  find 
strength  to  do." 

Those  who  listened — all  save  John — supposed  that 
Jesse  had  merely  reminded  him  of  some  duty  to  be  per- 
formed. _  Never  had  the  Master's  voice  been  more  gentle, 
though  his  face  had  turned  an  ashen  white. 

Stumbling  over  his  chair  as  he  rose,  Judson  turned  and 
left  the  room,  without  a  glance  behind.  A  moment  later 
they  heard  the  banging  of  the  street-door. 

Peter  was  still  troubled  with  heart-searchings.  He  was 
sure  that  he  had  not  listened  to  any  inner  voice  of  evil, 
sure  that  he  never  could  be  guilty  of  disloyalty  to  Jesse. 
He  now  appealed  to  him  to  set  his  heart  at  rest,  saying  in 
a  voice  hoarse  with  anxiety: 

"Master,  tell  me  that  you  did  not  mean  me!  " 

Jesse  laid  his  arm  lovingly  on  the  man's  shoulder. 

"  No,  it  is  not  you." 

Peter  shook  from  head  to  foot  with  the  gladness  of  his 
soul's  relief. 

"  But  do  not  be  too  certain  even  now,"  Jesse  added, 
"  that  you  will  never  be  found  wanting  in  loyalty." 

Peter  declared  his  readiness  to  follow  the  Master  even 
to  death.  After  a  deep  look  into  his  eyes,  Jesse  half  turned 
away;  then,  facing  him  again,  he  told  him  that  even  before 
the  morning  his  soul  would  fail  in  a  great  test.  Grieved 
and  incredulous,  the  poor  man  once  more  avowed  his  un- 
swerving loyalty;  but  Jesse  stopped  him,  saying: 

"  As  the  eartBquake  comes  when  no  man  looks  for  it, 
so  does  the  heart's  hidden  cowardice  suddenly  shake  the 
foundations  of  man's  faith  and  honour." 

Martha  and  Mary  Lane,  feeling  instinctively  that  Jesse 
would  prefer  this  evening  to  be  alone  with  his  men  com- 
panions, when  they  had  finished  serving  the  supper  had 
eaten  their  own  meal  in  another  room;  then,  bidding  the 
men  good-night,  they  had  gone  up-stairs  together.  Jesse 
asked  Andrew  to  close  the  dining-room  door:  they  would 
remain  there  until  the  time  should  come  for  them  to  seek 
their  nightly  sleeping-place  on  the  Palisades. 

Then  he  began  to  speak  of  the  devotion  that  should  bind 
them  all  together. 

"  Whenever  your  hearts  go  out  in  love  to  one  another, 


512          THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL 

you  will  feel  my  invisible  hand  reaching  to  touch  you  from 
the  Silence  wherein  I  dwell. 

"When  the  soul  of  one  of  you  shall  expand  with  love 
for  its  brother,  the  response  will  be  my  presence  among 
you. 

"  The  proof  which  I  leave  to  the  world  of  the  Spirit's 
love  for  me,  will  be  your  love  for  one  another." 

Then,  realising  at  last  that  he  was  certainly  about  to 
leave  them,  they  began  to  question  as  to  which  among  them 
should  be  supreme  in  leadership,  which  one  should  command 
the  others.  And  Jesse's  answer  to  this  question  was,  that 
whoever  should  be  most  willing  to  yield  his  rights  and 
opinions  should  be  the  guide  of  the  others. 

"  For,"  he  said,  "  the  one  who  desires  the  welfare  of 
the  cause  above  his  own  desires,  will  be  wise  enough  to  see 
wherein  that  welfare  lies. 

"  True  leadership  is  like  a  shadow,  which  ever  eludes 
the  pursuer;  but  follows  swiftly  along  with  him  who 
speeds  upon  the  quest  of  something  greater. 

"  He  who  humbles  himself  before  something  greater  than 
himself,  shall  be  exalted  above  all  lesser  beings. 

"  There  is  a  degree  of  humility  that  can  command  the 
homage  even  of  kings. 

"And  there  is  also  a  purity  that  is  more  powerful  than 
an  army.  A  helpless  child  in  the  way  of  a  rush  of  sol- 
diers would  be  strong  enough  to  deflect  the  line  of  their 
attack. 

"  Be  humble  when  you  seek  the  crown  of  wisdom ;  be 
humbler  still  when  you  wear  it  upon  your  forehead. 

"Never  challenge  analysis  by  boasting:  there  are  flaws 
in  the  fairest  fame. 

"  And  be  not  envious  of  anyone.  He  that  envies  another 
thereby  acknowledges  his  own  inferiority. 

"  As  long  as  you  cherish  yourself,  Truth  can  never  em- 
brace you. 

"  In  order  to  view  yourself,  you  must  get  away  from 
yourself." 

He  spoke  again  of  the  Presence  which  was  to  be  their 
comforter  when  he  should  be  no  more  with  them  in  the 
body;  and  though  they  only  vaguely  understood  his  mean- 
ing, yet  was  he  able  to  create  around  their  souls  an  atmos- 


THE   SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          513 

phere   of   expectancy,    to   fix   their  attention    on    the   un- 
seen. 

"  So  long  as  I  am  visibly  present  with  you,"  he  said, 
"you  will  not  yearn  for  the  invisible  Presence;  and  only 
to  him  who  yearns  for  the  invisible  will  it  ever  reveal  its 
beauty. 

"  When  the  world  seems  empty,  then  do  the  heavens 
open. 

"When  in  the  agony  of  your  desolation  you  shall  beat 
your  breast  and  hurl  your  prayer  for  me  into  the  seeming 
void,  then  will  the  very  power  of  your  supplication  make  it 
a  command,  to  which  my  unseen  presence  must  respond. 

"  The  soul  of  man,  being  one  with  the  Supreme  Spirit, 
can  draw  from  the  storehouse  of  the  Spirit  whatever  it 
imperatively  needs.  This,  my  children,  is  the  secret  of  the 
power  of  prayer. 

"  Though  I  become  invisible,  I  shall  not  pass  into  the 
realm  of  inaction,  for  there  I  could  not  comfort  you  nor 
guide  you  with  my  unseen  presence;  between  that  realm 
and  the  earth  there  is  a  high  barred  gate.  But  I  shall  re- 
main in  the  nearer  region  of  ethereal  forms,  ever-conscious, 
and  ever-active,  until  all  humanity  shall  have  attained  the 
right  to  enter  with  me  into  rest. 

"  To  you,  my  children,  I  entrust  the  labour  of  hastening 
that  day." 

For  a  time  he  sat  silent,  gazing  as  though  at  some  vision 
far  away — some  vision  which  they  could  not  see.  They 
watched  him  with  uneasy  hearts,  no  longer  doubting  that 
the  time  was  soon  to  come  when  he  would  leave  them; 
but  no  man  guessed  how  near  was  the  hour.  The  clock 
ticked  steadily  on  the  mantel,  telling  the  seconds  in  a  tone 
which  seemed  louder  and  more  insistent  than  usual.  The 
wind  was  rising;  they  could  hear  it  whistling  through  the 
branches  of  the  trees  outside  the  window,  and  a  loose  blind 
rattled  now  and  then  against  the  side  of  the  house. 
Though  their  minds  were  full  of  questions,  yet  none  dared 
to  speak.  They  only  watched  him. 

He  turned  his  eyes  again  to  the  circle  of  his  loved  ones, 
and  the  tense  stillness  was  broken  by  his  voice: 

"  When  I  am  gone,  all  things  will  speak  to  you  of  me. 
You  will  feel  me  in  the  fire  that  warms  you;  the  touch  of 


514         THE   SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

the  cold  wind  on  your  faces  in  the  winter  you  will 
feel  to  be  my  challenge  to  renewed  activity.  In  the  rising 
sun  will  I  greet  you  every  morning,  and  the  darkness  of 
the  night  will  be  my  mantel  which  I  lovingly  draw  round 
you  that  you  may  rest  and  sleep  in  my  embrace.  When- 
ever you  place  to  your  lips  the  cup  of  refreshing  water,  it 
is  I  that  you  will  drink;  whenever  you  eat  bread,  you  will 
taste  of  me.  I  am  in  the  air  you  breathe,  I  am  in  the 
meat  that  sustains  you.  When  the  fleecy  cloud  passes 
across  the  sky,  you  will  see  in  it  the  veil  which  hides  my 
face.  When  the  stars  look  down  at  you,  you  will  know  that 
my  eyes  are  watching.  When  the  young  leaves  unfold  their 
tender  greenness  in  the  spring,  I  am  the  life  that  has  arisen 
in  the  sap;  and  when  the  dead  leaves  fall  in  the  autumn, 
I  am  the  wind  that  rustles  them  about  your  feet." 

Then  Jesse  reached  out  his  hand  to  Andrew,  the  patient 
lover,  who  had  learned  the  master-lesson  of  self-denial 
through  placing  the  work  of  the  Master  above  his  own 
desire  for  happiness,  and  so  had  grown  strong.  And  when 
Jesse  felt  the  devotion  of  the  young  disciple  in  the  firm 
clasp  of  his  hand,  and  saw  it  shining  in  his  steady  eyes,  he 
said: 

"  For  you,  my  son,  I  have  this  night  a  special  gift:  my 
blessing  on  the  love  which  has  been  purified  by  sacrifice. 
When  the  moon  that  is  now  young  shall  shine  round  and 
perfect  upon  the  earth,  you  may  take  to  yourself  the  maiden 
singer  of  sweet  songs  whom  you  so  love — and  in  your  hap- 
piness remember  me." 

With  eyes  suffused  in  tears,  and  the  voice  in  which  he 
strove  to  speak  his  thanks  made  inarticulate  by  emotion,  the 
young  man  arose  from  his  chair  and  fell  upon  his  knees 
at  Jesse's  feet. 


CHAPTER  LXXXI 

THE  night  was  colder  than  any  of  the  previous  nights 
they  had  spent  upon  the  Palisades;  but,  though  every  man 
save  Jesse  would  have  been  glad  to  remain  in  the  com- 
fortable shelter  of  the  house,  no  one  was  willing  to  suggest 
it.  Not  a  word  was  spoken  as  they  walked  over  the  un- 
even ground.  A  strange  depression,  such  as  they  had  never 
known  before,  weighed  down  the  souls  of  all.  For  the 
first  time  since  their  coming  to  the  city,  they  thought  with 
longing  of  their  homes  and  friends. 

When  they  reached  the  spot  where  they  were  wont  to 
sleep,  Jesse  took  James  and  John  and  Peter  a  little  to  one 
side,  and  after  quietly  bidding  the  others  good-night,  as 
usual,  with  no  added  word  or  tenderer  hand-clasp  to 
arouse  their  premonitions,  he  led  the  three  who  understood 
him  best  a  few  yards  further  south,  and  told  them  to  sit 
down  upon  the  rocks  and  wait  for  him  while  he  went  away 
alone  to  pray. 

His  soul  was  very  sorrowful.  Though  he  had  long  held 
discourse  with  the  thought  of  death,  it  had  been  as  one  may 
realise  in  youth  that  sometime  he  must  die.  The  solemn 
word  of  a  physician,  who  says  that  a  suffering  man  has 
but  a  day  to  live,  is  less  convincing  to  the  watchers  by 
the  bedside  than  was  Jesse's  inner  certainty  to  him,  that 
the  trouble  of  the  afternoon  was  the  prelude  of  a  persecu- 
tion that  would,  somehow,  end  in  his  death.  Step  by  step 
from  the  beginning  of  his  ministry  he  had  gone  on,  always 
foreseeing  what  lay  along  the  path  immediately  ahead.  And 
now  he  could  not  doubt,  or  hope,  that  his  prevision  was 
less  vivid  than  of  old.  He  had  long  looked  forward  to 
death  as  to  the  signature  of  God  upon  his  work;  but  now, 
when  the  final  chapter  was  so  nearly  written,  he  longed 
with  a  natural  and  human  longing  to  have  the  end  less 
cruel. 

Not  for  a  moment  did  he  waver  in  his  determination  to 
pay  to  the  last  coin  of  suffering  the  price  demanded  by 


516         THE   SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

the  world  for  the  jewel  of  a  consistent  spiritual  faith;  but 
for  a  little  time  that  night  he  allowed  himself  to  wish  that 
the  payment  might  not  be  demanded.  Not  for  a  moment 
did  he  dream  of  taking  advantage  of  the  offered  possibility 
of  escape;  yet  he  saw  in  imagination  the  safe  and  speedy 
vessel  owned  by  his  young  friend  lying  quietly  on  the 
waters  just  across  the  river,  under  orders  to  take  him  and 
his  companions  whithersoever  he  might  say. 

At  that  hour  the  visible  world  seemed  beautiful  to  him. 
He  thought  of  the  green  and  peaceful  valley  of  his  birth; 
thought  of  the  far-away  wonderful  lands  that  as  a  boy  he 
had  yearned  to  visit,  of  the  approaching  summer  with  all 
its  splendid  pageantry  of  flowers  and  bannered  trees.  Hot 
tears  of  longing  filled  his  eyes. 

Throwing  himself  face  downward  on  the  ground,  he 
pleaded  with  the  all-powerful,  indwelling  Spirit — pleaded 
as  a  child  might  plead  with  its  father  to  be  allowed  to 
remain  a  little  longer  in  the  sunshine.  Was  it  not  pos- 
sible? Could  not  the  Spiritual  Sun  ripen  for  the  harvest 
the  field  which  he  had  sown,  even  though  the  sower  should 
remain  above  the  ground?  It  was  so  sweet  to  be  alive  and 
to  breathe  the  pure  air!  The  mystery  of  the  change  from 
the  visible  to  the  invisible  was  shrouded  in  darkness,  even  to 
his  eyes.  His  prayer  was  an  agony  of  supplication;  yet 
with  every  appeal  he  pledged  anew  his  resignation  to  the 
will  of  the  Spirit. 

All  was  now  dark  to  his  eyes.  The  human,  prayer  for 
life  had  veiled  the  superhuman  vision.  The  cold  of  the 
ground  penetrated  his  body,  and  seemed  to  his  overwrought 
imagination  to  be  the  cold  of  death.  But  though  he  shud- 
dered, there  was  no  fear  in  his  heart;  for  he  remembered 
that  the  Spirit  has  its  dwelling  in  the  darkness  as  well  as 
in  the  light;  that  life  and  death  are  but  the  positive  and 
negative  poles  of  the  infinite  magnet,  whose  current  is 
without  beginning  and  without  end.  All  this  he  remem- 
bered only;  for  in  those  moments  of  his  anguish  the  face- 
to-face  communion  with  the  Spirit  in  which  he  had  lived 
so  long  was  interrupted.  Souls  of  development  far  inferior 
to  his  have  known  this  hour,  and  have  called  it  the  Great 
Dark. 

Staggering  to  his  feet,  he  turned  to  seek  the  three  friends 
whom  he  had  left  to  watch  with  him  while  he  struggled 


THE    SON    OF   MARY    BETHEL          517 

with  the  Spirit  that  was  himself.  He  felt  a  passionate 
need  of  their  sympathy  and  companionship;  for  the  loneli- 
ness of  his  soul  was  more  than  he  could  bear.  But,  coming 
to  the  place  where  he  had  left  them,  he  found  them  all 
asleep. 

With  words  of  sad  reproof,  he  woke  them.  But  in  their 
drowsy  attention  there  was  no  comfort  for  his  heart. 
Never  had  he  been  more  vividly  awake,  more  keenly  con- 
scious; and  again  he  left  them,  with  the  request  that  they 
should  pray  for  him  and  for  themselves,  that  they  might 
avoid  the  Tempter  that  was  ever  watching. 

Alone  again,  he  sat  down  upon  a  rock  and  looked  up  at 
the  stars  which  shone  that  night  with  unusual  brilliancy. 
How  far  away  they  seemed  and  how  cold!  Though  his 
heart  should  break  with  love  for  a  thankless  world,  the 
stars  in  their  indifference  would  shine  as  brightly.  Be- 
tween his  eyes  and  theirs  the  slender,  naked  branches  of 
the  oak-trees  swayed  restlessly  in  the  wind.  Movement, 
everywhere  movement  and  life!  But  neither  in  the  swaying 
trees  nor  in  the  dancing  stars  was  there  consciousness  of 
him  or  of  his  pain.  Even  the  disciples  of  his  heart,  whom 
he  had  loved  beyond  their  understanding,  had  failed  him  at 
this  hour.  Among  all  those  who  had  followed  him  and 
had  partaken  freely  of  the  cup  of  spiritual  strength  and 
healing  that  he  offered,  there  was  one  only  who  would  not 
have  failed  him  now.  .  .  .  And  he  had  denied  her  last 
request  to  be  allowed  to  come  with  him  across  the  river 
to-night ! 

The  disloyalty  of  Judson  was  a  bleeding  wound  in  his 
heart.  So  intimate  was  the  sympathy  between  him  and  the 
Twelve,  that  for  days  he  had  felt  the  wavering  of  this 
man's  faith  as  a  constant  drain  upon  his  own  vitality.  With 
all  his  love  for  humanity  and  his  belief  in  its  perfectibility, 
no  sneering  sceptic  ever  knew  the  weakness  and  the  coward- 
ice of  the  human  heart  as  Jesse  knew  it.  Only  a  love  as 
vast  as  his  may  dare  to  draw  aside  the  veil  that  hides  the 
secret  motives  of  men.  He  knew  that  even  of  the  eleven 
who  slept  yonder,  believing  themselves  faithful,  the  greater 
number  would  weaken  and  fly  like  cowards  at  the  approach 
of  real  danger.  They  who  had  loudly  proclaimed  so  many 
times  their  willingness  to  follow  him  to  death,  would  find 
a  score  of  worldly  reasons  for  not  following  him  to  jail. 


5i8         THE   SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

And  if  this  was  true  of  his  intimates,  to  whom  he  had 
given  some  measure  of  his  own  spiritual  strength,  what 
loyalty  and  faith  could  unregenerate  men  expect  from  one 
another!  What  hope  was  there  for  a  world  wherein  dis- 
trust and  cowardice  were  universal!  He  suffered  less  from 
the  fact  that  the  hearts  of  those  whom  he  loved  could  fail 
him,  than  from  the  awful  realisation  that  such  failure  was 
a  part  of  the  universal  failure  of  mankind.  The  personal 
incident,  the  personal  grief,  was  but  a  symbol  of  a  vaster, 
more  inexorable  and  overwhelming  fact. 

Oh,  the  suffering  of  the  world !  He  felt  it  surging  over 
him,  bearing  him  down,  crushing  him  with  despair.  For 
every  care-free  heart  that  joyed  in  the  sunshine,  there  were 
a  hundred  bowed  beneath  the  weight  of  irremediable  woes, 
hunger  and  endless  toil,  pain  of  the  body  and  pain  of  the 
soul,  ignorance,  hatred,  strife,  the  apathy  of  hopelessness, 
and  over  all  the  cold  and  nagging  fear  of  the  future,  of 
starvation,  of  death. 

And  he  had  dared  to  dream  that  his  one  life  might  pay 
the  whole  world's  debt!  He  had  dared  to  believe  that  he 
had  only  to  show  mankind  the  path  to  a  purer  life,  and 
they  would  walk  in  it!  He  felt  now  that  they  would  not 
walk  in  it;  that  all  his  words  were  written  in  the  sand, 
to  be  obliterated  by  the  rising  tide  of  evil  whose  roar  now 
deafened  him.  Oh,  to  escape  one  moment  from  the  para- 
lysing consciousness  of  failure!  To  hear  the  assurance  of 
some  soul  that  believed  in  him  and  in  itself! 

He  would  go  back  to  the  friends  whom  he  had  asked  to 
watch  and  pray;  surely  their  greeting  would  revive  his 
fainting  hope.  But  when  he  came  to  the  place,  again  he 
found  them  all  asleep.  .  .  .  Why,  in  the  months  gone 
by  he  had  known  one  of  them,  the  imaginative  John,  to 
outwatch  the  stars,  because,  as  he  had  said,  the  night  was 
so  beautiful  that  he  could  not  bear  to  shut  out  the  vision 
of  it  by  closing  his  eyes  in  sleep.  And  now  he  was  as 
heavy  as  the  others!  It  seemed  as  if  the  spirit  of  Darkness, 
eternal  mate  and  enemy  of  the  spirit  of  Light,  had  decreed 
that  Jesse  should  drink  to  the  bitter  dregs  the  cup  of  mortal 
desolation,  before  he  could  be  crowned  with  the  wreath 
of  immortality. 

He  woVe  ibr  three  men  a  second  time,  and  in  a  voice 


THE    SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL          519 

choked  with  grief  reproved  them  for  their  lack  of  under- 
standing. And  they,  being  convicted  by  their  own  con- 
science, did  not  know  what  to  answer  him,  and  so  answered 
nothing. 

Then  he  left  them  and  went  away,  to  be  again  alone. 
His  heaviness  increased  with  every  step.  Never  before,  not 
even  in  his  darkest  hour,  had  he  been  visited  by  this  haunt- 
ing fear  that  his  life  and  work  might,  after  all,  have  been 
in  vain — that  men  might  reject  the  message  he  had  brought. 
His  love  for  the  world  was  tenderer  than  that  of  a  mother 
for  her  only  child,  and  his  life  had  seemed  so  small  a  gift 
to  bring  to  it.  .  .  .  But  if  the  gift  were  useless!  .  .  . 
Must  the  orphan  child,  Humanity,  still  go  on  suffering 
through  countless  ages,  a  homeless  wanderer  in  the  wilder- 
ness, bruising  its  naked  feet  upon  the  rocks  of  life,  now 
burning  on  hatred's  treeless  sands,  now  freezing  on  the  icy 
steeps  of  selfishness  and  cruelty?  He  reached  his  arms 
into  the  empty  air,  as  if  groping  for  the  world  to  draw 
it  to  his  breast.  Oh,  that  he  might  take  upon  his  own  soul 
the  burden  of  the  sin  and  failure  of  all  mankind!  That  he 
alone  might  bear  the  sorrows  of  the  whole  world!  Surely 
there  could  be  no  greater  anguish  than  that  he  now  endured. 
Why  could  he  not  so  suffer  alone,  for  them,  through  eternity 
— and  they  have  joy,  and  peace,  and  love?  He  offered 
himself  to  the  indwelling  Spirit  as  a  sacrifice,  praying, 
beseeching  that  he  might  go  on  suffering  like  this  through- 
out eternity — to  pay  the  price  of  happiness  for  them. 

The  pitiless  light  of  the  future  shone  full  upon  his  mind. 
He  saw  that  all  his  preaching  of  the  Spirit,  his  love,  his 
death,  would  not  carry  mankind  more  than  one  step  farther 
forward;  that  even  those  who  should  take  his  name  upon 
their  lips  and  call  themselves  his  followers  would  not  really 
follow  in  his  footsteps.  He  saw  himself  as  only  one  of 
a  long  line  of  the  world's  saviours  and  redeemers — a  line 
extending  back  into  the  misty  beginnings  of  time.  The 
tears  of  all  these  labourers  in  the  sterile  human  desert 
burned  his  eyes;  their  yearnings  and  despairing  love  were 
more  than  he  could  bear. 

He  threw  himself  upon  the  ground  and  buried  his  face 
among  the  dead  leaves  of  preceding  summers.  With  every 
year  new  leaves  would  grow  upon  the  trees,  only  to  fade 


520         THE   SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

and  fall;  with  every  cycle  new  messengers  of  the  Spirit 
would  come  into  the  world,  to  suffer  and  to  die.  He  felt 
the  whirling  of  the  earth  through  space  upon  its  bourneless 
journey,  till  his  brain  was  dizzy  with  the  motion  of  it.  He 
felt,  as  cutting  into  his  own  flesh,  the  chain  that  bound  the 
Spirit  to  its  dark  brother,  Substance.  He  was  bathed  in 
the  sweat  of  his  tortured  body,  as  humanity  is  bathed  in 
the  agony  of  its  struggle  to  be  free  from  the  merciless  Law, 
from  which  it  never  can  escape  until  the  countless  suns 
and  systems  of  suns  shall  fall  asleep  in  the  darkness  of 
dissolution. 

Then,  gradually,  there  came  upon  him  peace — a  peace 
beyond  the  understanding  of  all  save  those  rare  beings,  far 
isolated  in  time,  who  are  capable  of  suffering  to  that  utter- 
most point  where  the  great  circle  of  feeling  returns  upon 
itself,  and  suffering  becomes  joy.  Its  touch  was  like  that 
of  a  ministering  angel,  soothing  and  strengthening  the  soul. 
It  seemed  to  whisper  that  everything  was  in  its  place,  in 
time  and  in  eternity;  that  nothing,  not  even  evil  and  de- 
spair, could  be  in  vain;  that  what  seemed  lost  and  dead 
was  only  being  transformed,  to  re-emerge  a  little  farther 
on. 

There  returned  to  him  now  the  memory  of  the  dream 
which  had  come  to  him  in  youth,  of  the  iron  face  of  the 
Law  revealed  upon  the  mountainside,  the  pitiless  iron  face 
with  blazing  eyeballs,  which,  when  he  gazed  upon  it  fear- 
lessly, melted  into  the  smiling  face  of  Love.  He  had  never 
fully  understood  the  dream  until  this  hour. 

He  turned  his  eyes  again  to  the  stars:  they  seemed  no 
longer  cold  or  unconscious  of  him,  but  in  the  deeps  of  their 
myriad  eyes  he  saw  the  recognition  of  their  brotherhood 
with  him  and  with  each  other.  Even  the  eternal  Tempter, 
that  had  come  to  him  in  visible  form  during  his  sojourn 
upon  the  mountain  the  preceding  year,  he  now  realised 
anew  to  be  only  a  servant  of  the  Great  Law,  stationed 
for  ever  beside  the  gates  of  power  to  test  the  souls  that 
would  pass  through. 

Again  he  looked  at  the  naked  branches  of  the  oak-trees 
swaying  in  the  wind  against  the  sky;  their  life  no  longer 
was  remote  from  his,  and  their  every  movement  seemed 
a  conscious  caress. 


THE    SON    OF  MARY   BETHEL          521 

Then  he  thought  of  the  three  men,  his  loved  disciples, 
whom  he  had  left  a  little  while  before.  Poor  tired  ones! 
What  matter  though  their  eyes  had  been  closed  in  sleep? 
Their  souls  were  still  awake,  their  souls  that  were  one  with 
his. 

With  a  light  step  he  crossed  the  intervening  space  and 
stood  before  them.  This  time  they  awoke  without  a  word 
from  him,  as  if  electrified  by  his  approach.  In  a  voice  more 
gentle  than  the  gentlest  tones  they  had  ever  before  heard 
even  from  him,  he  told  them  to  sleep  on  and  take  their  rest. 

But  they  did  not  return  to  sleep.  For  suddenly  the 
sound  of  approaching  footsteps  brought  them  to  their  feet, 
startled  and  alert. 


CHAPTER   LXXXII 

COMING  toward  them  was  a  company  of  men — how  great 
a  number  they  could  not  be  sure  at  first,  because  of  the 
uncertain  light,  but  apparently  there  were  no  fewer  than 
thirty.  And  there  was  something  peculiar  in  the  way  they 
came,  not  irregularly,  or  walking  two  by  two,  but  in  a 
broad  curved  line,  as  if  they  sought  to  cover  every  foot 
of  ground  for  a  wide  space.  Though  the  line  was  broken 
here  and  there,  because  of  the  rocks  and  trees,  yet  the  men 
seemed  to  be  making  for  a  definite  place — the  group  of 
oaks  whereunder  Jesse  and  his  three  friends  were  standing. 

"  What  can  they  want  ?  "  said  Peter  hoarsely,  and  John's 
heart  began  pounding  with  sudden,  unexplainable  alarm. 

"What  can  they  want?"  echoed  the  gentler  voice  of 
James.  "Master,  what  can  they  want?" 

"  They  seek  me,"  Jesse  answered,  "  led  by  one  who  sought 
me  with  a  different  purpose  but  a  little  while  ago." 

Then  he  went  forward  to  meet  the  advancing  men. 
They  stopped  when  they  saw  him  coming,  tall  and  majestic 
in  the  starlight;  they  stopped  as  if  uncertain  what  to  do, 
for  the  power  of  his  presence  surprised  them.  But  one 
rushed  forward  and  caught  him  by  the  arm:  it  was  Judson 
Carey,  and  he  had  been  drinking. 

"  Master,"  he  cried,  breathing  his  unpleasant  breath  in 
Jesse's  face,  "  come  with  us  now  across  the  river.  You 
will  come,  won't  you,  Master?  It  is  very  important  that 
you  come  with  us  now  across  the  river." 

His  speech  was  thickened.  He  had  been  nerving  himself 
for  an  ordeal.  The  grossness  of  his  state  was  like  the 
devil's  grinning  commentary  on  the  sublimity  of  Jesse's  last 
half-hour — like  the  gargoyle  on  the  face  of  a  cathedral. 
Even  reproof  would  have  been  wasted  on  him;  though 
Jesse  said,  more  for  the  others  who  stood  near  than  for  this 
fallen  companion: 

"  He  who  betrays  the  soul  will  himself  be  betrayed  by 
the  body." 

Then  he  asked  the  crowd  what  they  desired  of  him; 

522 


THE   SON    OF  MARY   BETHEL          523 

and  a  large,  soft-voiced  man,  who  was  the  butler  and 
trusted  servant  of  the  Reverend  Doctor  Claflin,  stepped 
before  the  others,  who  had  been  recruited  from  the  lower 
ranks  of  hirelings,  the  hangers-on  of  saloons  and  livery- 
stables.  These  men  had  made  the  trip  across  the  river 
as  they  would  have  gone  on  any  rowdy  excursion  that 
promised  a  few  free  drinks ;  they  did  not  even  know  whence 
came  the  money  on  which  they  were  to  regale  themselves 
when  their  easy  work  was  over.  The  dignified  clergyman 
had  of  course  not  soiled  his  lips  by  giving  orders  in  such 
a  matter;  he  had  merely  granted  his  faithful  servant  an 
extra  night  off.  He  would  have  been  profoundly  and 
sincerely  shocked  had  the  details  of  the  affair  in  which  he 
acquiesced  been  forced  upon  him.  The  man  who  was. seen 
to  leave  the  Claflin  house  with  the  butler  that  night  had 
not  long  before  succeeded  in  breaking  a  strike  on  one  of 
the  Needham  railroads — but  he  had  never  come  in  personal 
contact  with  John  Needham,  being  but  the  deputy  of  a 
deputy  thrice  removed.  If  an  officer  in  citizen's  clothes 
was  also  of  the  butler's  party  that  night,  why,  any  citizen 
has  a  right  to  cross  the  North  River  on  a  ferry-boat.  On 
this  night  Heaven  and  Hell  shook  hands,  each  helping  the 
other  to  achieve  a  masterwork  of  the  extreme  and  opposite 
kind  of  each. 

The  soft-voiced  butler  answered  Jesse's  question: 
J.   have   been    requested    to    request   you   to   accompany 
me  and  my  friends  to  the  New  York  side  of  the  river." 

Here  Peter  Bond  sprang  forward,  and  would  have  laid 
hands  on  the  man  had  not  Jesse  restrained  him. 

"  Master,  you  shall  not  go !  "  he  cried. 

"  What  matter,"  said  the  Master,  "  whether  I  go  with 
these  to-night  or  with  my  friends  to-morrow?  I  came 
down  here  to  preach  the  faith  of  the  Spirit  to  the  dwellers 
in  the  great  city  yonder,  and  I  should  certainly  re-cross  the 
river  at  the  usual  hour  to-morrow  morning." 

At  that  moment  the  other  men,  who  had  been  sleeping 
a  few  rods  away,  came  running  to  the  spot,  having  been 
awakened  by  the  sound  of  voices.  James  Dana  told  them 
in  a  dozen  words  the  meaning  of  the  unusual  scene:  and 
they,  not  knowing  what  to  do,  and  being  outnumbered 
three  to  one  by  the  intruders,  did  nothing. 


524          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

Jesse  now  said  to  the  man  who  seemed  to  be  the  leader 
of  the  crowd: 

"  I  am  going  with  you,  and  of  my  own  free  will.  Did 
I  not  wish  to  go,  I  could  at  this  moment  call  upon  the 
Spirit  within  me,  and  the  Spirit  would  utter  through  my 
lips  such  words  of  power  that  even  those  who  follow  you 
would  be  electrified  by  the  awakening  of  the  Spirit  in  them- 
selves, and  would  defend  me  against  you.  But  this  is  the 
hour  of  darkness,  and  the  hour  of  my  sacrifice  of  self — 
the  proof  of  my  renunciation.  One  thing  only  I  ask:  that 
these  men  who  have  followed  me  shall  go  their  way  un- 
molested." 

"  Oh,  we  don't  want  them !  "  answered  the  man.  "  They 
don't  count." 

Without  another  word,  Jesse  strode  forward  across  the 
uneven  ground  toward  the  little  winding  road  which  led 
idown-hill  to  the  ferry,  and  behind  him  came  the  band  of 
ruffians.  He  had  not  asked  his  friends  to  follow  him,  and 
only  two  had  followed,  even  at  a  distance.  The  others, 
bewildered  by  the  sudden  appearance  of  the  hostile-looking 
crowd,  frightened  at  the  possibility  of  violent  opposition, 
and  driven  to  despair  by  their  remembrance  of  the  Master's 
prophecy  of  death,  had  fled  away  into  the  night.  And 
when  Jesse  turned  to  look  for  the  half-drunken  Judson, 
whose  beastliness  made  even  treachery  grotesque,  he  al^o 
was  not  there.  Alone,  as  at  the  outset  of  his  ministry; 
alone,  as  on  the  mountain  of  illumination,  Jesse  passed 
down  the  flight  of  wooden  steps  at  the  beginning  of  the 
winding  road. 

Where  the  road  turned  sharply,  about  half-way  down, 
stood  the  stump  of  a  dead  tree  which  had  been  sawed  off 
evenly.  Here  he  paused  and  sat  down  for  a  moment.  On 
one  side  of  him  rose  the  almost  perpendicular  wall  of  rock, 
on  the  other  side  were  the  branches  of  trees  which  grew 
on  the  hillside  below. 

"Tired?"  asked  the  lackey  leader  of  the  rowdy  band, 
as  he  paused  and  waited  beside  Jesse. 

"  I  shall  not  be  loath  to  rest,  when  my  hour  strikes." 

"Well,  don't  rest  too  long  here,  or  we  may  be  obliged 
to  hurry  you.  That  boat  won't  wait  for  us." 

The  tone  was  insolent,  but  Jesse  hardly  heard  it.     The 


THE   SON   OF  MARY   BETHEL          525 

exaltation  and  the  peace  of  that  last  half-hour  of  meditation 
were  with  him  still.  He  was  so  far  removed  in  conscious- 
ness from  what  was  merely  personal,  that  insolence  could 
not  find  him.  He  realised  only  that  the  man  had  said  the 
boat  would  not  wait,  and  they  were  going  to  cross  the  river 
on  the  boat;  so  he  rose  immediately  and  went  on  down 
the  hill.  The  butler,  having  himself  a  coward  soul,  as- 
sumed from  this  that  he  was  afraid  of  him. 

A  moment  later  Jesse  stumbled  over  one  of  the  small 
tree-trunks  which  were  laid  across  the  steep  road  at  in- 
tervals, to  prevent  the  washing  away  of  the  soil;  and  as  he 
caught  himself,  the  man  cried: 

"  Hi,  there!     Can't  you  keep  your  feet?" 

The  boat  was  in  the  dock  when  they  reached  the  ferry- 
house,  and  they  went  immediately  on  board,  the  butler 
paying  Jesse's  fare.  .On  that  same  boat  John  and  Peter 
crossed  the  river;  but  they  did  not  go  near  the  Master, 
only  keeping  him  in  view.  Even  now  Jesse  was  hardly 
conscious  of  his  surroundings.  He  went  forward  and  stood 
at  the  bow,  just  behind  the  gates;  but  though  his  eyes  were 
upon  the  foam  that  glistened  below,  he  did  not  really  see 
it.  His  thoughts  were  rapt  in  the  realisation  which  had 
come  to  him  a  little  while  before,  as  he  prayed  alone  be- 
neath the  stars — the  realisation  that  everything  was  in  its 
place,  in  time  and  in  eternity.  He  knew  that  he  was  being 
carried  forward  across  the  water  of  this  river  toward  some 
unknown  and  cruel  fate;  but  it  all  seemed  prearranged, 
and  in  accordance  with  a  beautiful  design;  his  sorrows 
were  only  the  dark  threads  in  the  pattern  which  the 
Supreme  Artist  was  weaving  on  the  loom  of  faith.  With- 
out the  contrast  of  the  black,  the  brilliant  colours  would 
seem  less  brilliant,  and  the  fabric  would  not  so  strongly 
appeal  to  the  eye  of  beauty. 

As  the  boat  drew  near  the  shore,  the  lights  glittering 
before  his  eyes  drew  Jesse's  thoughts  back  to  the  earth 
which  bore  him.  Though  the  hour  was  late,  the  great 
city  was  still  illuminated ;  it  lay  beside  the  river  like  a 
dragon  shaking  its  gleaming  scales.  On  an  elevation  to 
the  right  of  him  he  saw  the  twinkling  lights  of  that  gay 
hostelry  which  nightly  watches  late  beside  a  hero's  tomb ; 
to  the  left  of  him  the  colossal  ribs  of  a  now  nearly  depleted 


526          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

gas-tank  stood,  like  a  giant  skeleton  from  pre-human  ages, 
black,  threatening,  against  the  sky.  He  even  smiled  at  a 
grim  fancy  which  flashed  across  his  mind:  the  black  ribs 
of  that  colossus  yonder  protected  the  lungs  of  the  fire-breath- 
ing dragon;  in  imagination  he  could  smell  its  awful 
breath — that  breath  which  is  slowly  inhaled  through  the 
daylight  hours  and  slowly  exhaled  after  dark.  These  were 
his  last  impressions  as  he  neared  the  shore  of  the  river  he 
had  loved. 

The  boat  bumped  against  the  piling,  the  chains  of  the 
windlasses  rattled,  the  gates  were  thrown  back  with  a 
metallic  snap,  and  the  ferry  poured  its  passengers  into  the 
State  and  City  of  New  York. 

An  officer  in  uniform  laid  his  hand  on  Jesse's  arm, 
telling  him  that  he  was  under  arrest.  He  was  then  taken 
down-town  and  cast  into  a  jail,  like  any  common  male- 
factor. 


CHAPTER  LXXXIII 

WITH  trembling  hand  John  pulled  the  door-bell  of  the 
house  in  the  city  where  the  women  lodged.  It  was  long 
after  midnight.  Could  he  gain  entrance  at  that  hour? 
He  would,  he  must!  The  small  considerations  of 
propriety  were  not  for  times  like  that.  Somewhere 
in  the  dark,  silent  house  was  the  one  soul  who  was  strong 
enough  to  help  him  in  his  hour  of  terror  and  despair,  and 
he  must  force  a  way  to  her.  He  pulled  the  bell  a  second 
time.  Oh!  would  not  someone  come?  At  last  he  heard 
a  light  step,  and  the  inner  door  was  opened;  there  was 
the  rattling  of  a  chain,  the  sliding  of  a  bolt,  and  a  woman's 
voice : 

"Who  is  it?" 

"  Oh,  Mary !     It  is  I,  John.     Let  me  in." 

"Hush!" 

Her  whisper  was  commanding;  but  the  door  opened, 
and  she  drew  him  into  a  dark  room  on  the  right,  the 
reception-room  of  the  house. 

"What  is  the  matter?     Where  is  Jesse?" 

"  I  do  not  know.  They  have  brought  him  over  to  the 
city.  Oh,  Mary!  What  shall  I  do?" 

She  closed  the  door  into  the  hall  and  lighted  the  gas. 
She  was  dressed  as  in  the  daytime,  but  her  hair  was  loosened 
and  fell  about  her  shoulders.  Her  face  was  white. 

"Tell  me  everything,  John,  quickly." 

"  We  were  sleeping,  as  usual,  on  the  Palisades.  .  .  . 
A  crowd  of  men  came.  .  .  Judson  was  with  them. 
.  .  .  They  brought  the  Master  to  the  city,  Peter  and  I 
following.  .  .  .  An  officer  arrested  him." 

'  Where  did  the  officer  take  him  ?  " 

'  Oh,  Mary,  I  do  not  know ! " 

'Where  is  Peter?" 

'  I  lost  him  in  the  crowd.    .    .    .    I  do  not  know.    .    ." 

'  There  is  no  crowd  at  this  hour,  John." 
527 


528          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"  But  I  lost  him." 

"  You  mean,  that  Peter  followed  Jesse,  and  you  did 
not?" 

"  I  meant  to  follow  him.  A  heavy  truck  came  between 
and  a  motor  car.  .  .  ." 

"Oh,  that  I  were  a  man!  Since  first  I  followed  the 
Master,  I  have  longed  to  be  a  man.  I  may  not  go  out 
and  preach  about  him,  I  may  not  remain  with  my  fellow 
disciples  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  I  may  not  hold 
long  counsels  with  him  in  the  dawn,  like  you;  but  I  would 
have  followed  him  to  prison  or  to  death." 

"  Oh,  don't,  sister,  dear  sister!  .  .  .  I  am  so  un- 
happy! " 

"  Yes,  yes,  poor  child !  You  are  unhappy,  but  what  of 
him?" 

"What  could  I  have  done,  Mary?  I  could  not  have 
made  the  officer  release  him." 

"You  could  have  proved  your  worthiness  to  be  his  friend. 
You  could  have  followed  him." 

The  boy — for  he  was  still  only  a  boy — suddenly  sat  down 
in  one  of  the  satin  chairs,  and  laying  his  head  upon  the 
padded  back,  burst  into  tears.  For  a  minute  Mary  stood 
looking  at  him;  then  she  came  over  and  laid  her  hand  on 
his  hair.  When  she  spoke  her  voice  was  rich  with  tender- 
ness, but  her  words  were  strong: 

"  This  is  no  time  for  tears,  little  brother." 

He  raised  his  head,  dashing  the  drops  from  his  eyes; 
then  he  stood  up,  facing  her. 

"What  can  I  do,  Mary?" 

"  Let   me   think.     .     .     ." 

"You  are  fully  dressed,  Mary!  Haven't  you  been  to 
bed  at  all?" 

"  No.  I  feared — I  knew  not  what,  this  night.  I  could 
not  have  slept." 

He  remembered,  with  a  sudden  rush  of  shame,  how  he 
and  the  other  men  had  slept,  while  Jesse  prayed  alone. 

"How  great  you  are,  sister!" 

She  seemed  not  to  hear  him;  her  eyes  were  brilliant  with 
thought,  her  face  was  flushed.  After  a  little  time,  she 
said: 

"  I  could  learn  where  he  is  by  telephoning  to  the  office 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          529 

of  the  city  editor  on  any  of  the  great  papers.  He  is  illus- 
trious. His  arrest  would  be  immediately  reported." 

"  I  had  not  thought  of  that,"  John  said. 

Mary  was  silent,  looking  straight  out  before  her. 

"Shall  we  telephone  now,  sister?"  His  voice  was 
hesitant,  unsteady. 

"  Let  me  think,"  she  said  again.     "  Let  me  think.     . 

He  stood  looking  at  her.  Deeply  as  he  had  always 
loved  her,  he  had  not  realised  before  how  beautiful  she 
was.  And  she  had  been  watching  and  listening  all  these 
weary  hours,  feeling  that  some  danger  threatened  Jesse; 
she  had  come  down  herself  to  open  the  door.  .  .  . 

"  John." 

"Yes,  Mary." 

"  I  have  been  asking  myself  what  he  would  wish  us 
to  do.  I  do  not  think  that  he  was  surprised  by  his  arrest. 
He  must  have  been  expecting  it,  after  that  scene  in  Union 
Square  this*  afternoon — I  mean,  yesterday  afternoon.  It 
seems  a  century  ago !  " 

"And  you  think     ..." 

"  I  feel  that  he  would  not  wish  us  to  make  any  effort 
to  release  him.  He  will  be  taken  before  a  magistrate  in  the 
morning.  He  can  then  speak  for  himself." 

"But  he  is  in  jail,  Mary.     It  is  horrible!" 

She  smiled. 

"  What  is  a  jail  to  him?  He  can  make  heaven  of  the 
darkest  place." 

John's  eyes  lighted  at  her  words. 

"  Why,"  he  said,  "  the  Master  at  this  moment  is  doubt- 
less comforting  the  wretches  who  are  confined  with  him 
in  the  prison !  " 

"  Yes,"  Mary  answered.  "  And  now  I  think  further 
about  it,  I  am  more  certain  than  before  that  he  would 
wish  us  to  do  nothing.  But,  tell  me,  what  became  of 
the  other  men  when  the  crowd  took  Jesse  away?" 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"You  mean,  they  disappeared  ?  " 

He  nodded  his  head. 

"  And  you  and   Peter  followed   him  across  the  river  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  What  time  was  that  ?  " 


530          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"  Two    hours   ago,    perhaps.     I   wandered     about    the 
streets  alone  for  a  long  time    .     .     .     and  then  I  came  to 
you." 

"  And  all  the  other  men  disappeared,"  Mary  repeated, 
musingly,  "  all  the  other  men." 

John  made  no  answer,  for  he  realised  that,  to  the  Mas- 
ter, he  also  had  disappeared.  After  another  silence,  Mary 
said: 

"  Now  I  think  you  had  better  find  a  public  telephone, 
for  there  is  none  in  this  house,  and  learn  where  Jesse  is. 
I  have  'told  you  how.  Then  go  to  the  place  yourself.  I 
believe  that  you  will  find  Peter  somewhere  around  the  out- 
side of  the  jail." 

"And  what  are  you  going  to  do,  Mary?  " 

"  Wait  for  the  morning.  Then  I  shall  take  the  other 
women  with  me  to  the  court." 

Suddenly  she  caught  her  breath  with  a  choking  cry. 

"  What  is  it?  "  he  whispered,  frightened  by  her  look. 
Her  self-control  had  given  way  all  at  once,  and  she  was 
weeping,  pitifully. 

"  Oh,  John,  /  shall  have  to  tell  his  mother!  " 


CHAPTER  LXXXIV 

IT  was  ten  minutes  before  nine  in  the  court  of  Magistrate 
Palmer.  Though  the  bench  was  still  empty,  the  room 
was  packed  to  the  doors,  the  hall  outside  was  packed,  and 
a  mass  of  people  obstructed  the  sidewalk  before  and  around 
the  building.  A  dozen  newsboys  reaped  a  generous  har- 
vest of  coppers  by  selling  "  extra  "  journalistic  comments, 
headed  in  three-inch  letters,  on  the  trial  which  had  not  yet 
taken  place. 

The  portly  outer  guardian  of  the  temple  of  justice  was 
bewildered;  no  such  crowd  had  ever  been  seen  before  in 
that  court.  He  was  a  good-natured  officer,  in  sympathy 
with  the  ardent  curiosity  of  these  people;  and  long  before 
the  hour  for  court  to  open  he  had  yielded  up  one  of  the 
benches  usually  reserved  for  lawyers,  and  had  packed  all 
the  available  spaces  in  the  room  as  an  expert  might  pack 
a  box  of  sardines.  The  majesty  of  the  law  being  still 
absent,  he  made  no  attempt  to  keep  silence  in  the  court- 
room. As  he  moved  here  and  there,  preserving  order,  he 
heard  the  comments  of  the  crowd: 

"What  will  they  do  with  him?"  .  .  .  "Disorderly 
conduct,  the  paper  said."  .  .  "  I  was  there  myself; 

he  hardly  moved."  ..."  This  is  an  outrage !  "  .  . 
"  Will  they  send  him  to  the  Island  ?  "  .  .  .  "  You  never 
saw  him,  you  say?  Why,  where  have  you  kept  yourself 
these  last  few  days!"  .  .  .  "I  told  you  so!  I  knew 
'twould  come.  I  said "...  "  That's  his  mother, 
down  there  in  front."  ...  "Oh,  you  don't  say! 
Which  one?"  .  .  .  "It's  a  conspiracy,  I  tell  you!" 
.  .  .  "  Why  didn't  somebody  bail  him  out  ? "  .  .  . 
"  He  says  he's  God  himself,  but  that  so  is  every  other 
man."  ..."  It's  nearly  time  for  court  to  open  now." 
.  .  .  "  Will  his  case  come  up  first  ?"  .  .  .  "  I  won- 
der who  that  handsome  woman  is,  down  there."  . 
"  He  can't  succeed.  The  world  is  not  ready  for  that  kind 
of  thing."  ..."  I'm  glad  they  took  him  up :  he's  a 


532          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

blasphemer!"  .  .  .  "The  paper  says  he  wants  to  stir 
up  strife."  .  "  I  heard  him  preach  in  Madison 

Square  Garden  the  other  night."  ..."  I'll  bet  you 
a  drink  the  magistrate  lets  him  go." 

Seated  near  the  railing  were  Peter  and  Andrew  Bond, 
James  and  John  Dana,  Marty  White,  Jesse's  mother,  Mary 
Magnus  and  the  other  women.  They  did  not  know  that 
in  the  crowd  outside,  unable  to  get  into  the  courthouse, 
were  Lawrence  Lane  and  his  sisters,  with  two  of  the  men 
who  had  disappeared  the  night  before. 

Mary  Bethel  was  paler  than  Lawrence  had  been  as  he 
lay  in  his  coffin  one  week  ago  that  day.  She  had  known 
nothing  of  Jesse's  trouble  until  six  o'clock  that  morning, 
when  Mary  Magnus  had  come  to  her  room  and  told  her, 
with  more  than  a  daughter's  tenderness,  that  Jesse,  to 
prove  the  power  of  the  Spirit  was  all-sustaining,  had 
consented  to  spend  a  night  in  prison,  and  that  they  were 
to  meet  him  in  the  court  that  morning.  Then,  as  the 
softened  truth  broke  gradually  over  her  consciousness,  she 
had  hidden  her  face  for  a  few  moments  from  even  the  lov- 
ing eyes  of  her  companion.  That  was  three  hours  ago; 
and  though  she  had  not  wept,  she  seemed  to  herself  to 
have  suddenly  become  an  old  woman.  She  had  been  born 
and  bred  in  New  England — and  her  son  was  in  jail! 

During  that  hour  of  waiting  Mary  Magnus  suffered  less 
than  she  had  suffered  many  times  before.  She  knew  that 
the  shade  and  dampness  of  a  prison  could  not  quench  the 
flame  which  burned  in  Jesse's  soul;  she  also  knew  that 
wherever  he  went  his  ministry  went  with  him,  and  her 
heart  swelled  to  think  of  the  peace  and  hope  his  presence 
must  have  brought  to  the  poor  wretches  who  were  his 
night  companions.  What  dangers  lay  beyond  this  hour 
she  could  not  imagine;  but  she  realised  that  Jesse  had 
done  nothing  for  which  the  laws  of  the  country  could 
punish  him.  That  there  might  be  interests  strong  enough 
to  stand  for  a  time  above  the  law  was  a  possibility  she  had 
not  considered.  The  dread  which  had  appalled  her  on 
their  first  day  in  the  city  was  present  with  her  still;  but 
it  seemed  to  point  to  something  beyond  this  pleasant  court- 
room with  its  ruddy-faced  attendants  ...  to  some 
vague  and  still  unseen  danger.  She  had  even  slept  a  little 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          533 

toward  morning,  knowing  there  was  nothing  she  could 
do  for  him  until  the  daylight. 

Peter  had  not  slept  a  moment  during  the  long  night. 
As  Mary  had  supposed,  John  had  found  him  walking  up 
and  down  before  the  building,  having  been  denied  ad- 
mittance by  the  officer  in  charge.  The  other  men  had 
learned  from  the  morning  papers  where  the  Master  was. 

"Hats  off!     Hats  off!" 

The  quick,  sharp  order  of  the  officers  meant  the  arrival 
of  the  magistrate,  and  in  another  moment  a  large  man  with 
iron-grey  hair  and  beard,  in  the  flowing  black  robes  of 
Justice,  passed  across  the  platform  and  took  his  seat  upon 
the  bench.  If  he  saw  the  unusual  crowd  which  packed 
the  spaces  of  his  court,  he  gave  no  sign.  The  clock  pointed 
to  five  minutes  past  the  hour.  Justice  is  always  rather  late 
when  it  comes  to  deal  with  the  world's  Teachers. 

Through  a  door  at  the  side,  behind  the  rail  which 
separated  the  spectators  from  the  court,  came  several  men 
and  ranged  themselves  at  the  bar.  Some  words  were 
spoken,  inaudible  to  the  breathless  group  of  men  and  women 
from  Vermont;  then  in  a  sharp,  mechanical  tone  came  the 
question  of  the  magistrate: 

"What  have  you  got  to  say?" 

"  He  hit  me  first,  yer  Honour.  I  was  goin'  about  me 
business,  and  up  he  comes  and  says  to  me,  says  he :  '  What 
for  do  ye  try  to  git  me  job  away,  ye  blasted  son  of  a 
gun?'" 

"  And  so  you  hit  him?  " 

"  I  say,  he  hit  me  first,  yer  Honour.  I  wouldn't  hev 
blacked  his  eye  if  he'd  kep'  a  civil  tongue  in  his  head, 
and " 

"  One  dollar." 

"Next  case!" 

And  the  belligerent  one  was  hustled  away  to  make  room 
for  another  prisoner,  a  man  with  a  bandage  round  his 
head,  only  a  "  drunk  and  disorderly,"  who  was  promptly 
sent  to  the  Island  for  ten  days. 

A  fat  negress  followed,  and,  from  what  the  listeners  could 
gather,  the  charge  against  her  was  the  stealing  of  a  garnet 
scarf-pin  from  a  dapper  little  negro  whom  she  afterward 
referred  to  as  "  ma  bo'der." 


534          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"  What  have  you  got  to  say  ?  " 

She  denied  the  charge  with  firmness,  and  as  the  evidence 
of  the  only  witness  in  the  case  was  insufficient,  the  magis- 
trate discharged  her  with  a  warning,  and  she  passed  out 
of  the  courtroom  muttering  something  about  "  spo'ty 
gen'lemen  as  wears  brass  sca'f-pins  with  glass  beads  stuck 
in  'em." 

The  degradation  of  it  all,  the  squalor,  broke  the  proud 
heart  of  Mary  Bethel.  Her  son,  her  Jesse,  a  fellow  pris- 
oner with  such  as  these! 

"  Next  case.     Jesse  Bethel." 

Suddenly  all  the  seated  spectators  leaped  to  their  feet, 
to  get  a  better  view;  but  the  loud  voice  of  the  officer  in 
charge  rang  out  above  the  sound  of  moving  feet  and  rustling 
garments. 

"  Sit  down !     Sit  down !  " 

Jesse  was  standing  before  the  magistrate,  who  looked  at 
him  gravely  while  the  charge  of  disorderly  conduct  was 
stated  by  the  officer. 

"What  have  you  got  to  say?"  repeated  the  magistrate, 
using  from  force  of  habit  the  form  of  words  he  had  ad- 
dressed day  after  day,  year  after  year,  to  thousands  of  pris- 
oners standing  in  that  same  spot. 

"  Nothing." 

Jesse's  clear  voice  was  audible  in  every  part  of  the  room. 
Though  his  back  was  toward  the  spectators,  the  power  of 
his  presence  was  felt  by  everyone;  and  two  or  three  un- 
fortunates who  had  been  brought  in  with  him  from  the 
prison  were  seen  to  edge  nearer  and  to  touch  his  garments 
furtively,  as  if  they  fancied  there  might  be  strength  and 
healing  in  the  contact. 

The  magistrate  motioned  Jesse  to  the  small  platform 
immediately  before  him,  and  Jesse  went  up  and  stood  there, 
eye  to  eye  with  his  judge.  The  tenacious  perfume  which 
had  followed  him  everywhere  since  it  was  poured  upon  his 
hair  some  days  before  stole  over  the  senses  of  the  puzzled 
magistrate.  In  all  his  long  experience  no  prisoner  like  this 
had  ever  stood  before  him.  The  colour  rose  in  his  bronzed 
face,  and  for  a  little  time  there  was  utter  silence  while  the 
two  men  looked  at  each  other. 

"  What  did  you  do  at  the  moment  mentioned  by  thii 
officer?" 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          535 

"  I  drank  a  cup  of  water." 

"Was  that  all?" 

"  That  was  all." 

"  Why  did  you  go  up  those  steps?  " 

"  I  was  thirsty." 

"Was  that  your  only  reason?" 

"  That  was  my  only  reason." 

"  Had  any  of  the  officers  forbidden  you  to  go  up  ?  " 

"  One  of  them  gave  me  permission  to  go  up." 

"  What  did  you  say  to  the  crowd  ? " 

"  Nothing."  ^ 

"  What  motion,  or  gesture,  did  you  make  to  the  crowd  ?  " 

"  None." 

"  How  long  had  you  been  standing  there  facing  the 
crowd  when  they  began  shouting — when  they  became  dis- 
orderly?" 

"  I  merely  turned  and  came  down." 

Jesse's  answers  were  given  with  a  simple  dignity  which 
made  the  questions  of  the  magistrate  seem  to  himself  an 
impertinence. 

"  I  find  no  fault  in  this  man's  conduct,"  he  said  to  the 
officer  who  had  made  the  arrest.  Then  he  turned  again  to 
Jesse,  saying: 

"  You  are  discharged." 

The  gate  was  opened,  and  Jesse  found  himself  outside 
among  the  spectators.  His  friends  gathered  round  him  in 
silence;  they  were  afraid  even  to  whisper  in  this  place,  so 
great  was  their  dread  of  the  grim  machinery  of  the  law. 
Mary  Bethel  put  out  her  hand  and  touched  the  hand  of 
her  son,  who  responded  with  a  strong  clasp  and  a  con- 
fident smile  which  changed  the  colour  of  the  world  for  the 
frightened  mother.  Perhaps,  after  all,  she  thought,  the 
matter  had  not  been  so  serious  as  it  seemed;  it  was  a  mere 
mistake,  a  technicality,  an  officer's  stupidity;  for  Jesse  was 
free  again,  and  everyone  in  the  courtroom  seemed  to  be  fol- 
lowing him  now,  with  admiration  in  their  eyes,  as  he  made 
his  way  slowly  toward  the  door.  She  looked  at  Rose 
Thomas  and  smiled. 

Among  the  faces  in  the  crowd,  Jesse  saw  that  of  the  man 
who  had  led  the  band  of  ruffians  over  the  river  the  night  be- 
fore. He  did  not  know  that  a  small  steam-launch  had 
waited  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  ferry-landing,  and  that 


536          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

he  would  have  been  a  passenger  thereon  had  he  demurred 
at  crossing  with  the  men  who  had  climbed  the  hill. 
The  sight  of  the  butler's  oily  smirk  made  Peter  clench 
his  fists. 

As  they  came  down  the  steps  of  the  building,  the  people 
in  the  street  gave  rousing  cheers,  and  Lawrence  Lane  and 
his  companions  forced  a  way  to  Jesse's  side.  Their  glad- 
ness at  seeing  him  was  unrestrained.  Half  a  hundred 
voices  were  shouting  for  a  speech  from  Jesse  Bethel;  but 
a  line  of  officers  came  round  the  corner  at  that  moment 
and  began  to  clear  the  sidewalk. 

"Won't  you  come  home  with  me,  Jesse,  and  rest?"  his 
mother  pleaded.  "  You  must  be  very  tired.  Did  you  sleep 
at  all?"  < 

He  smiled  at  her  reassuringly,  but  did  not  answer  the 
question. 

"  Come  to  our  house,  instead,"  cried  Martha  Lane. 
"  You  can  rest  there,  and  the  mother  can  rest,  too." 

Mary  Magnus  made  no  suggestion,  but  only  waited,  with 
her  eyes  on  Jesse's  face.  Why  was  he  so  pale?  More  than 
once  she  had  known  him  to  pass  a  night  without  sleep,  and 
seem  no  different  on  the  morrow.  The  haunting  dread, 
which  she  had  scarcely  felt  while  in  the  courtroom,  was 
gathering  round  her  again.  Oh,  that  she  dared  to  persuade 
him  to  go  away  now,  far,  far  away!  Though  the  day  was 
warm,  she  shivered  as  in  winter,  and  her  teeth  were  chat- 
tering. Why  was  he  still  standing  here  in  the  street? 

"  Come,  Jesse,"  said  the  mother,  appealingly.  "  You 
must  rest  for  a  few  hours." 

At  that  moment  a  group  of  officers  approached  them,  and 
one  laid  his  hand  on  Jesse's  arm,  telling  him  that  he  was 
under  arrest. 

"Again?"  shouted  Peter  Bond.  "What  trumped-up 
charge  have  you  against  him  now  ?  " 

"  If  you're  not  quiet,  I'll  arrest  you,  too,"  said  the  of- 
ficer. "Clear  out!" 

"Arrest  me!  I  wish  you  would.  That's  what  I  want," 
cried  the  now  thoroughly  angry  man. 

The  officer  laughed  in  his  face.  "  If  I  remember  rightly," 
he  said,  "  you  weren't  so  dead  sure  last  night  that  he  was  a 
friend  of  yours." 


537 

^  A  flush  of  shame  overspread  Peter's  face,  and  he  dropped 
his  eyes. 

"We  don't  want  anything  of  you,"  the  officer  added. 
Then,  turning  to  Jesse,  he  said: 

"  Come  on,  now!  " 

_The  two  re-entered  the  grim  building,  leaving  Jesse's 
friends  standing  on  the  sidewalk,  bewildered  and  despair- 
ing. 

"What  shall  we  do?  Oh!  what  shall  we  do?"  cried 
John,  whose  nerves  were  stretched  to  the  breaking  point. 

The  mother  was  now  crying  bitterly  on  the  breast  of 
Mary  Magnus,  who  had  no  words  of  comfort  ready  for  this 
unexpected  need.  For  the  moment  she  was  no  less  confused 
than  the  others.  What  could  it  all  mean?  She  turned  to 
the  quiet  Andrew  for  the  strength  she  needed;  but  he  was 
engaged  in  comforting  Anna  Martin,  who  was  weeping  on 
his  arm.  Peter  was  beside  her;  but  from  the  look  on  his 
face  she  realised  that  he  was  going  through  some  harrow- 
ing mental  struggle.  What  words  could  have  passed  be- 
tween him  and  that  officer  last  night,  that  a  mere  allusion 
to  them  should  cover  him  with  shame?  The  only  one 
among  them  who  seemed  to  have  any  presence  of  mind  was 
Martha  Lane;  she  was  the  only  one  who  had  slept  un- 
brokenly  for  the  last  seven  nights.  She  now  said  to  James 
Dana: 

"  Come  with  me  to  the  desk  of  the  police  station.  We 
will  try  to  learn  when  Jesse  will  appear  again  before  the 
magistrate."  Then  to  the  others:  "Wait  here  till  we 
come  back." 

"Shall  we  not  get  a  lawyer  for  the  Master?"  Philip 
Manning  asked.  "  Surely  it  is  our  duty." 

Mary  answered  for  the  others: 

"  Can  any  lawyer  speak  as  Jesse  speaks  ?  " 

"  He  would  not  wish  us  to  do  anything  like  that,"  John 
said. 

"  Oh,  my  son,  my  son !  "  sobbed  Mary  Bethel.  "  God, 
our  Father,  do  not  forsake  my  son ! " 


CHAPTER  LXXXV; 

JESSE  stood  a  second  time  before  Magistrate  Palmer, 
charged  with  inciting  to  riot.  And  there  were  witnesses 
who  swore  that  when  he  stood  on  the  steps  of  the  fountain, 
in  plain  view  of  the  people,  he  had  raised  his  arms  dramat- 
ically, as  if  appealing  to  them  for  a  demonstration;  that 
he  had  sent  his  followers  through  the  crowd  to  urge  the 
people  to  revolt  against  the  orders  of  the  police  that  there 
should  be  no  speaking;  that  the  word  "revolution"  was 
heard  on  every  side  that  afternoon.  The  powers  which 
stood  behind  this  effort  to  incriminate  Jesse  Bethel  did  not 
appear  in  the  police  court,  for  fear  their  dignity  might  be 
defiled.  In  a  republic,  where  all  men  are  equal,  dignity  is 
a  delicate  fabric  and  easily  soiled;  but  there  is  plenty  of 
rough  serge  and  homespun  to  be  bought  cheap  and  used 
for  common  purposes. 

Peter  and  John,  with  their  brothers,  who  watched 
and  listened  in  the  courtroom,  heard  false  testimony  to  the 
effect  that  they,  as  Jesse's  representatives,  had  told  men  in 
the  crowd  at  Union  Square  that  they  were  expected  to 
shout  when  Jesse  should  give  the  signal.  They  also  heard 
that  Jesse  had  declared  that  he  would  start  a  revolution 
which  no  power  could  stay;  that  he  .was  sent  by  God  to 
destroy  the  government,  and  to  establish  a  new  order  with 
himself  as  ruler. 

The  magistrate  listened  to  all  this  testimony  with  a 
clouded  brow.  When  the  last  witness  had  been  questioned, 
he  sat  looking  at  Jesse  for  some  moments.  Finally  he  asked 
him,  quite  irrelevantly: 

"Have  I  not  seen  you  somewhere,  before  to-day?" 

"  It  may  be,"  was  the  answer;  "  you  may  have  seen  me 
a  long  time  ago.  The  memory  of  man  is  brief,  and  the  ex- 
perience of  the  soul  is  long." 

"  What  have  you  to  say  in  answer  to  the  testimony  of 
these  men?" 

"  To  false  testimony  there  is  always  but  one  answer." 

538 


THE    SON    OF   MARY  BETHEL          539 

"  Can  you  prove  that  their  statements  are  false?" 
"  I  cannot  prove,  by  witnesses,  that  I  have  never  told  you 
what  I  hold  to  be  the  truth;  and  yet  you  know  that  I  have 
never  told  you  what  I  hold  to  be  the  truth." 

The  magistrate  fingered  his  watch-chain;  he  turned  over 
and  over  a  bundle  of  papers  which  lay  before  him;  but  his 
blue,  penetrating  eyes  never  shifted  from  Jesse's  face. 
"  Are  you  hoping  to  revolutionise  the  world  ?  " 
"  I  hope  to  change  the  heart  of  the  world." 
"  Do  you  believe  in  government  ?  " 
"  I  believe  that  the  soul  should  govern  the  man." 
"  Do  you  claim  to  be — have  you  ever  stated  that  you  were 
God  himself?" 

"  I  have  said  that  God  is  in  .all  men." 
"  Have  you  ever  told  any  man  to  disobey  the  law?  " 
"  I  have  told  all  who  would  listen  that  every  atom  of  the 
universe  moves  in  obedience  to  the  Great  Law." 

"  Why  did  you  go  to  Union  Square  yesterday  afternoon, 
when  you  had  been  forbidden  by  the  police  to  speak  there? 
Remember  that  you  are  under  oath." 

"  I  am  always  under  oath  to  testify  to  the  truth,  though 
there  are  few  who  understand  it.  I  went  to  Union  Square 
because  I  knew  that  my  bodily  presence,  though  my  lips 
were  silent,  would  remind  all  who  saw  me  of  the  Spirit  in 
themselves."  • 

Among  those  who  listened  to  this  colloquy  between  a  pris- 
oner and  his  judge,  there  were  only  three  who  knew  the 
struggle  that  was  going  on  between  the  brain  and  the  soul 
of  that  judge,  and  two  of  these  three  were  practical  poli- 
ticians, so-called.  The  other  was  young  Daniel  Needham, 
the  fabric  of  whose  dignity  had  been  strengthened  by  a 
triumphant  faith.  He  had  figured  carefully  beforehand  how 
far  the  brain  of  the  man  on  the  bench  might  compromise 
with  his  soul,  and  he  was  prepared  for  any  emergency  which 
he  foresaw.  But  his  vision  being  slightly  clouded  by  his 
own  integrity,  he  did  not  see  beyond  the  next  half-hour. 

The  magistrate  did  not  seem  to  be  weighing  the  evidence; 
he  seemed  to  be  weighing  Jesse.  There  were  reasons  why 
it  would  not  be  expedient  for  him  simply  to  discharge  this 
prisoner  for  the  second  time;  but  he  was  bound,  if  he  could 
not  save  him  altogether,  to  shift  the  responsibility  from  his 


540          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

own  burdened  conscience.  The  form  of  questioning  which 
he  adopted,  so  unusual  in  a  police  court,  made  Daniel  Need- 
ham  wonder  if  he  were  not  merely  playing  for  more  time 
in  which  to  settle  with  himself  the  terms  of  his  soul's  com- 
promise. 

"  What  is  the  purpose  of  all  your  talk  about  a  spiritual 
revolution  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  seek  to  incite  a  spiritual  revolution." 

"  What?  " 

"  I  seek  to  excite  the  Spirit,  which  slumbers  in  every 
man,  to  a  degree  of  aspiration  that  shall  transform  his  life, 
his  thoughts,  his  purposes,  his  heart." 

"  But  the  word  '  revolution '  is  dangerous." 

"The  Spirit  of  God  is  dangerous — to  those  whose  ways 
and  purposes  are  evil." 

"  What  are  you  trying  to  prove  by  your  preaching  ?  " 

"I  am  trying  to  prove  by  my  life  that  a  man  may  live 
the  faith  he  preaches;  that  a  formula,  if  true,  may  be  dem- 
onstrated; that  the  ideal  and  the  practical  are  one  and  in- 
dissoluble. I  am  a  miner  who  does  not  fear  to  test  his  gold 
with  acid;  I  am  a  mower  who  sharpens  his  scythe  on  the 
grindstone  of  experience." 

"And  do  you,  then,  fear  nothing?  " 

"Fear  is  the  only  thing  that  man  need  fear." 

Then  Magistrate  Palmer,  having  settled  with  himself 
the  terms  of  compromise,  told  Jesse  that  he  should  be 
obliged  to  place  him  under  bonds  to  keep  the  peace. 

At  that  moment  Mary  Bethel,  who  was  half-blinded  by 
despair,  felt  the  pressure  of  a  hand  upon  her  arm;  and 
looking  up,  through  the  mist  of  her  tears,  she  saw  the 
strong  face  of  young  Daniel  Needham  bending  over  her 
with  filial  tenderness. 

"  Have  no  anxiety,"  he  said.  "  I  will  arrange  this 
matter  of  the  bond,  and  your  son  will  be  free  in  a  few 
minutes." 


CHAPTER   LXXXVI 

WHEN  Jesse  was  again  in  the  open  street,  free,  under 
bonds  to  keep  the  peace,  he  stood  still  for  a  minute  or  two, 
looking  up  at  the  sunlit  sky.  The  Law,  in  the  person  of 
the  magistrate,  had  compromised  so  far  with  Persecution, 
which  had  not  appeared  in  person,  but  through  representa- 
tives. The  beauty  of  the  day,  the  glory  of  freedom,  came 
to  him  now  as  new  and  real  experiences,  thrust  forward  in 
his  consciousness  by  contrast  with  their  opposites.  He  had 
not  realised  that  he  suffered  in  the  prison,  save  from  mere 
bodily  fatigue;  for  he  had  reached  and  passed  the  climax 
of  personal  suffering  the  night  before,  in  that  dark  hour 
under  the  indifferent  stars,  when  his  spirit  had  wrestled 
with  despair  and  conquered  it.  But  freedom  and  sunlight 
were  good,  and  he  enjoyed  them.  His  friends,  respecting 
his  desire  for  silence,  waited  a  few  moments  before  ap- 
proaching him. 

The  crowd  which  had  attended  his  first  trial  had  become 
weary  of  waiting  for  his  second  appearance,  and  as  the  hours 
wore  on  the  people  had  gradually  drifted  away.  Even  the 
early  afternoon  papers  only  casually  mentioned  the  fact  that 
he  had  been  discharged  and  re-arrested,  whereas  the  morn- 
ing issues  had  been  full  of  him.  One  might  have  said  that 
the  city  was  taking  breath,  in  preparation  for  another  and 
even  more  pronounced  sensation. 

As  Jesse  stood  with  bared  head,  looking  up  at  the  sunlit 
sky,  two  rather  rough-looking  men  a  short  distance  from 
him  were  talking  together,  keeping  all  the  time  an  eye  on 
Jesse  and  on  a  group  of  men  who  lounged  in  apparent  idle- 
ness around  the  steps  of  a  building  across  the  way. 

"Queer  job,  this!  Wonder  what  it  all  means,"  observed 
the  smaller  and  shabbier  of  the  two. 

"Oh,  it's  Bill's  job,  and  he  always  knows  what  he's 
about,"  replied  the  other. 

"  But   I   don't  even  know  what   I'm  s'posed   to  do." 

54i 


542          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

"You  don't  need  to  know  nothin'.  All  we've  got  to  do 
is  to  follow  Bill,  till  he  gives  orders." 

"  It's  an  easy  job — too  blamed  easy  fer  my  taste." 

"  Oh,  don't  growl  yet  awhile !  You  ain't  done  with  it 
yet." 

"  Seems  to  me  we  hain't  begun,  though  we've  been 
standin'  round  here  fer  hours." 

"Waitin'  is  sometimes  doin',  so  Bill  says." 

"  Well,  I  prefer  strike-breakin' ;  leastways,  there's  some 
excitement,  and  a  feller  knows  just  what  he's  up  against." 

"What's  the  difference,  so  long  as  you  get  the  money?  " 

"Wonder  why  they  want  to  worry  the  man.  .  .  . 
Look  at  'im!  Mike  says  he's  a  preacher.  Say,  who's 
behind  this  job,  anyway?" 

"  Ask  Bill." 

"  Bill  ?  He  never  tells  nothin'.  Even  that  time  they 
jailed  him  in  Chicago,  he  never  opened  his  mouth." 

This  conversation  was  overheard  by  John  Dana,  who  told 
his  brother  in  a  whisper  the  substance  of  it.  They  looked 
at  each  other  in  dismay.  Only  four  of  the  men,  with  Law- 
rence Lane  and  the  women,  were  near  Jesse  at  this  hour. 
The  others,  overpowered  by  weariness  during  the  long 
hours  of  waiting  for  the  second  trial,  had  stolen  away  to 
snatch  a  little  rest,  and  had  not  yet  returned.  Daniel 
Needham,  also,  when  his  brief  but  important  duty  was  per- 
formed, had  gone  back  to  the  duties  of  his  daily  life. 

"  We  must  get  the  Master  away,"  John  said  to  Peter, 
under  his  breath.  "  He  is  in  danger." 

"  I  don't  understand  him  to-day,"  was  Peter's  answer. 
"  He  seems  to  be  in  a  kind  of  haze." 

"  I  think  we're  all  in  a  haze,  from  lack  of  sleep,"  said 
Andrew. 

"  That  is  true  of  us,"  John  replied ;  "  but  it's  something 
more  than  the  lack  of  sleep  that  troubles  him.  His  soul 
seems  far  away,  as  if  it  had  left  the  earth." 

"  Yet  he  was  never  more  vividly  himself  than  when  he 
answered  the  questions  of  the  magistrate  a  little  while  ago." 

John  now  approached  Jesse  and  laid  a  hand  upon  his 
arm,  saying: 

"There  is  nothing  more  that  we  can  do  here,  Master: 
let  us  go." 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          543 

As  they  started  to  cross  the  street,  the  rough-looking  men 
who  had  been  lounging  around  the  steps  of  the  building  op- 
posite suddenly  moved  forward,  and  the  two  groups  met 
at  the  corner.  In  telling  the  story  afterward,  John  said 
that  the  one  who  ran  violently  against  Jesse  was  of  a 
swarthy  complexion;  but  Peter  was  sure  that  he  was  blue- 
ejTed  and  fair. 

"Look  where  you're  going!"  shouted  Andrew,  as  he 
tried  to  throw  himself  between  Jesse  and  the  men;  but  he 
was  carried  off  his  feet  by  a  rush  of  other  men  from  be- 
hind. 

There  was  a  sudden  roar  of  voices  and  immediately  peo- 
ple began  running  toward  the  spot  from  all  directions. 
The  women  ran  up  the  steps  of  a  building,  and  huddled  to- 
gether in  fright.  Though  there  seemed  to  be  a  score  of  men 
pushing  and  tossing  around  Jesse,  they  could  not  see  that 
any  blows  were  exchanged.  In  the  centre  of  the  uproar 
stood  the  Master,  tall  and  calm,  with  the  sunlight  glinting 
on  the  gold  of  his  uncovered  head. 

"Oh,  my  son!  my  son!"  wailed  the  mother,  wringing 
her  helpless  hands. 

In  the  bellowing  of  voices  words  could  be  now  and 
then  distinguished,  insulting  words  directed  to  the  one 
who  stood  there  so  calm  and  beautiful  in  the  centre  of  the 
tumult;  but  though  the  bellowing  was  in  many  voices,  the 
words  were  not. 

"How  can  he  stand  so  quietly?"  one  of  the  women 
cried. 

"  Because  they  are  not  touching  him,"  said  Mary  Mag- 
nus. 

At  that  moment,  as  if  her  words  had  been  a  challenge, 
they  saw  an  ugly  ruffian  strike  Jesse  in  the  face. 

"  My  God  1  "  wailed  the  mother.  "  Save  him,  Oh,  my 
God!" 

Down  the  whiteness  of  Jesse's  face  there  ran  a  line  of 
scarlet.  On  the  hand  which  had  dealt  him  the  blow  there 
had  been  a  jagged  ring.  At  the  sight  of  his  blood,  the 
women  gripped  each  other;  their  lips  moved,  but  no  sound 
came.  Again  they  heard  insulting  words  to  Jesse  above  the 
babel  of  voices. 

But  the  passers-by,  who  had  gathered  at  the  sound  of 


544          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

the  tumult,  were  now  pressing  forward,  pushing  to  right 
and  left  the  rowdies  who  had  manufactured  the  affray;  and 
cries  of  "  Shame!  "  "  Police!  "  and  "  Give  him  fair  play!  " 
were  mingled  with  the  coarser  words  of  the  rioters. 

"The  police  are  coming!"  someone  cried,  and  other 
voices  took  up  the  cry,  "  The  police,  the  police !  "  Several 
officers  were  making  their  way  through  the  crowd. 

At  that  moment  Jesse  was  seen  to  raise  his  hands  above 
his  head,  as  if  to  quiet  the  people,  and  his  lips  moved. 

"  He  wants  to  speak!  "  .  .  .  "Be  still,  and  let  him 
speak!"  .  .  .  "He's  going  to  speak!"  shouted  those 
who  had  joined  the  crowd  from  the  outside. 

A  burly  teamster,  who  had  witnessed  the  cowardly  blow, 
now  thrust  himself  forward,  and  pointing  to  the  ruffian, 
said  to  Jesse,  in  tones  of  rage  and  sympathy: 

"  I  saw  him  strike  you !  Have  the  law  on  him,  sir !  It's 
right  that  you  should  have  the  law  on  him ! " 

Above  the  noise,  which  had  subsided  a  little  at  the  of- 
ficers' approach,  Jesse's  voice  rose  clear  and  strong: 

"  I  know  no  law  above  the  law  of  love.  In  each  of  you 
is  the  all-powerful  and  immortal  Spirit.  Awake,  and  It 
will  revolutionise " 

"  Hi,  there !  No  talk  about  revolution,"  shouted  a  po- 
liceman, as  he  made  his  way  toward  Jesse,  with  club  up- 
lifted. 

"  Awake,"  Jesse's  thrilling  voice  went  on,  "  awake,  and 
the  Spirit  will  revolutionise  your  lives  with  the  glory  of 
Its  presence.  Its  love " 

The  night-stick  of  the  officer  descended  on  the  speaker's 
head,  and  the  appeal — his  last  appeal  to  the  groping  souls 
he  loved — was  never  finished.  The  women  who  watched 
saw  only  a  gap  in  the  crowd  where  his  Spirit-lighted  face 
had  been.  He  had  gone  down,  like  a  soldier  in  battle,  his 
last  words  a  ringing  call,  his  last  thought  for  the 
cause  to  which  he  had  given  every  breath  of  his  dedicated 
life. 

A  sudden  stillness  held  the  people;  for  several  heart- 
beats no  one  moved  nor  spoke.  The  officer  who  had  dealt 
the  blow  stood  like  a  figure  of  stone,  staring  down  at  the 
motionless  form  on  the  ground.  Why  was  it  so  still? 
Could  it  be  ...  Then  a  heart-breaking  cry,  which 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          545 

those  who  heard  it  never  could  forget,  penetrated  the  still- 
ness : 

"Oh,  my  son,  my  son!  They  have  killed  my  son!" 
And  Mary  Bethel,  staggering  through  the  crowd  that  drew 
back  to  make  a  way  for  her,  fell  forward  across  the  body 
of  him  who  had  been  her  babe,  her  hope,  her  glory,  her 
despair. 

Master,  it  is  finished.  Crowned  with  the  thorny  wreath 
of  death,  you  lie  in  the  dust  of  the  earth  you  dreamed  to 
save.  Upon  the  cross  of  human  life  you  have  suffered,  nor 
have  you  drunk  the  vinegar  and  gall,  the  self-deception  and 
the  bitterness,  that  cloud  the  consciousness  of  baser  souls. 
Lifted  up,  by  the  Spirit  that  inspires  you,  to  a  height  where 
every  passer-by  may  see,  you  shall  draw  all  men  unto  you 
by  the  beauty  of  your  soul.  As  you  passed  from  the  outer 
to  the  inner  life,  the  world  seemed  dark  because  you  were 
leaving  it;  the  veil  of  the  temple  of  a  dead  and  formal  re- 
ligion was  rent  from  the  top  to  the  bottom,  and  the  earth 
shook  in  the  birth-throes  of  a  new  and  living  faith.  For 
what  heart  can  fail  to  be  touched  by  a  love  like  yours? — 
a  love  that  understands  all  things,  that  forgives  all  things, 
knowing  that  when  men  cause  suffering  to  one  another  and 
to  you,  they  know  not  what  they  do. 


CHAPTER   LXXXVII 

FROM  THE  JOURNAL  OF  MARY  MAGNUS 

The  Presence!  I  have  seen  the  Presence,  the  promised 
Comforter,  the  living  Master — after  three  days  of  darkness 
and  despair.  With  all  my  faith,  I  only  half  believed  that 
I  should  see  Him,  only  half  grasped  the  promise;  nor  did 
I  dream  that  it  would  be  like  this — so  real,  so  visible — 
that  He  would  come  to  me. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  inner  vision,  but  knew  not  what  it 
meant  until  this  day.  I  used  the  words  as  others  use 
them;  they  were  to  me  a  phrase,  a  figure  of  speech;  I  did 
not  know  that  they  were  literally  definitive  of  a  new  and 
undreamed  of  faculty  of  the  soul. 

I  write  down  calmly,  simply,  as  a  witness  testifies,  the 
wonder  that  I  saw;  though  my  pulses  quiver  and  my  spirit 
is  on  fire.  Will  any  understand? 

It  was  this  morning,  before  dawn.  All  night  I  had  not 
slept.  Until  a  late  hour  I  had  remained  with  the  mother, 
who  would  not  let  me  go;  but  made  me  repeat  to  her  over 
and  over  the  talk  I  had  with  Jesse  in  Peter's  garden,  when 
He  first  told  me  that  He  would  die,  but  that  I  should  see 
Him  again.  Even  then  I  did  not  understand.  And  yes- 
terday, when  I  repeated  Jesse's  words  to  Daniel  Needham, 
he  thought  them  figurative^  "  We  see  the  dead,"  he  said 
to  me,  "  even  as  we  see  the  scenes  of  our  childhood,  with 
the  eye  of  memory  alone." 

As  I  have  written,  it  was  this  morning,  before  dawn.  I 
had  risen  from  my  bed  and  sat  in  a  large  chair  by  the  open 
window;  though  the  air  was  rather  cold,  I  did  not  seem 
to  feel  it.  It  was  the  time  of  deepest  darkness,  before  the 
grey  begins.  I  had  closed  my  eyes,  which  were  burning 
with  tears  and  sleeplessness;  yet  I  seemed  to  be  looking  out, 
out  into  the  void  that  His  death  had  made  of  all  the  uni- 
verse. 

Suddenly,  vividly,  against  the  blackness  of  my  inner  eye- 

546 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          547 

lids,  I  saw  His  face.  ...  I  saw  it  clearly  as  I  see  my 
hand,  now  when  I  hold  it  up  before  my  eyes,  only  the  vision 
of  His  face  was  far  more  vivid  than  my  normal  sight,  the 
colours  were  intenser,  the  light  was  clearer  than  the  light 
of  earth,  and  seemed  to  shine  down  upon  Him  from  above, 
making  the  whiteness  of  His  high  forehead  startlingly  ap- 
parent. At  first  the  eyes  were  downcast,  the  face  was  in 
repose;  though  it  was  not  the  repose  of  death  but  of  calm 
life  at  rest,  and  the  colour  of  His  face  was  as  I  have  al- 
ways seen  it — revealed  in  a  light  brighter  than  that  of  the 
sun  and  more  transparent. 

Then  He  raised  His  eyes  and  looked  at  me.     .     .     . 

How  can  I  tell  this  story  with  the  calmness  of  a  witness 
giving  testimony — I  who  have  seen  the  living  Master! 
How  can  I  make  those  understand  to  whom  the  inner  vision 
is  only  synonymous  with  imagination  ? 

He  raised  His  eyes  and  looked  at  me.  It  was  the  Mas- 
ter, the  real  Master,  consciously  present  there  in  that  inner 
world  of  which  the  seers  have  told  us.  No,  I  was  not 
dreaming.  To  verify  my  certainty  of  that,  I  passed  my 
hand  along  the  arm  of  the  chair  to  a  place  where  the  fringe 
was  ripped  away,  and  felt  the  well-known  rent  with  my 
fingers.  Never  was  I  more  vividly  awake. 

The  vision  still  remained,  and  a  faint  smile  further  il- 
lumined the  illumined  face.  He  was  at  peace,  then,  and 
happy!  In  a  sudden  rush  of  joy  I  breathed  His  name,  and 
He  responded  with  a  brighter  smile. 

Then,  by  what  means  I  know  not — but  let  no  one  dare 
deny  the  truth  of  what  I  say — I  caught  these  words,  which 
seemed  to  come  from  a  great  distance: 

"  I  am  with  you  always,  and  with  all  men  and  women 
who  believe;  and  I  shall  here  remain  until  the  universe  of 
souls  can  enter  with  me  into  rest." 

That  was  all.  The  face  was  gone,  and  I  peered  for  it 
in  vain  through  the  darkness  behind  my  eyelids.  The 
voice  was  gone,  too;  only  the  rumble  of  an  elevated-train 
disturbed  the  stillness  of  the  night. 

It  is  noon-time  as  I  write,  and  I  have  told  them  all 
what  I  have  seen;  but  do  they  understand?  As  He  said 
to  us  one  day,  "  Can  you  describe  the  rainbow  to  a  man 


548          THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL 

born  blind  ?  "  They  know  I  would  not  speak  what  I  do 
not  believe;  but  do  they  think  me  self-deceived?  A  child 
would  say  that  I  had  dreamed  a  beautiful  dream;  a  learned 
psychologist  would  say  that  I  had  been  the  victim  of  a 
strange  hallucination.  But  I  am  wiser  than  the  learned 
psychologist,  and  simpler  than  the  child.  And  I  shall  see 
Him  again — of  that  I  am  quite  sure. 

He  has  said  that  He  will  be  always  with  all  men  and 
women  who  believe.  The  eleven  men  believe,  and  many 
of  the  women.  Will  they  not  also  see  Him?  To  the 
mother  He  will  surely  come,  and  I  have  hope  that  He  will 
come  to  all.  Even  the  new  believers,  and  those  who  in 
the  future,  shall  open  their  souls  to  the  indwelling  Spirit, 
may  see  Him,  if  their  faith  is  strong  enough;  for  the  Mas- 
ter is  not  dead,  and  He  has  promised  to  remain  in  the  in- 
ner region  of  ethereal  forms  until  all  men  can  enter  with 
Him  into  rest.  Oh,  sublime  sacrifice ! 

He  who  has  earned  the  right  to  merge  His  consciousness 
in  the  universal  consciousness  of  the  One  Spirit,  to  be  at 
one  with  the  Father,  the  selfless  Self,  has  sacrificed  that 
right — that  He  may  dwell  for  ever  with  the  souls  of  men! 
He  will  suffer  with  us  for  our  sins,  will  patiently  endure 
the  long  effect  of  every  cause  which  mankind  in  ignorance 
or  folly  shall  launch  upon  the  shoreless  sea  of  action.  He 
will  wait  for  us,  postponing  His  own  bliss  until  all  hu- 
manity shall,  by  countless  lives  and  ages  of  experience,  be- 
come as  pure  as  He.  But  will  they — can  they  become  pure  ? 
Hopeless  the  waiting  seems,  yet  He  will  wait  for  them. 
What  mind  can  grasp  such  love  as  this?  To  help  men  to 
aspire,  to  make  the  long  and  heartsick  journey  easier  for 
them,  His  soul  will  wait  for  theirs. 

Whoever  hates  another;  whoever  fails  in  charity  and 
love;  whoever  speaks  evil  of  another — which  He  has  said 
is  just  as  bad  as  doing  evil  to  them;  whoever  turns  his 
back  upon  the  spirit  to  revel  in  the  coarser  pleasures  of 
matter,  retards  His  rest.  For  He  will  wait  for  man. 

Where  will  He  wait?  In  the  inner  region  of  ethereal 
forms,  He  has  declared;  and  I,  who  saw  Him  in  that  re- 
gion, can  vouch  for  its  existence  on  the  universal  map.  In 
the  darkness  behind  my  eyelids  I  beheld  Him;  then  must 


THE    SON    OF   MARY   BETHEL          549 

that  inner  region  co-exist  with  the  universe  of  matter,  inter- 
penetrating it,  as  another  dimension  of  space. 

Bewildering  thought!  Yet  He  has  said  that  the  Spirit  is 
within  us,  so  must  the  Spirit  dwell  in  that  ethereal  region. 
Will  He  become  the  link  between  the  Spirit  and  the  world 
of  material  beings?  Was  it  for  that  He  sacrificed  all  thought 
of  happiness  for  self?  How  clear  become  the  mysteries  of 
faith  when  seen  in  this  new  light!  How  real  becomes  the 
dream  of  the  indwelling  Friend!  No  loneliness  can  ever 
sadden  one  who  has  found  Him;  no  grief  can  be  too  heavy 
to  endure,  when  He  endures  it  with  us. 

And  yet  the  question  rises:  how  can  even  He  be  con- 
sciously present  with  all  men  at  the  same  time?  Can  He 
be  personally  conscious  of  us  all?  But  wait  a  moment  be- 
fore answering.  ...  If  He  dwells  in  another  dimen- 
sion of  space,  may  there  not  also  be  another  dimension  of 
time?  The  mind  will  reason,  even  though  the  heart  be 
satisfied,  and  in  such  reasoning  there  is  no  wrong.  It  may 
be  that  to  the  very  ones  who  are  most  learned  the  assur- 
ances of  simple  faith  will  seem  most  reasonable. 

I  close  my  eyes,  for  I  am  still  a  little  weary  from  long 
watching.  Behind  my  eyelids  there  is  darkness,  even  in  the 
day ;  though  nevermore  will  the  darkness  seem  a  void  to  me. 
To-morrow  I  will  write  to  my  faithful  old  servant,  who 
also  loved  Him,  and  tell  her 

Oh,  again  He  is  here!  The  Master!  .  .  .  Shall  I 
see  His  face  whenever  I  am  moved  to  do  a  loving  act?  He 
smiles,  and  the  vision  fades.  But  in  my  soul  there  is  the 
strength  of  many — a  sudden  rush  of  power,  a  lightness,  a 
determination  to  make  my  life  an  instrument  for  the  service 
of  the  world. 

Master,  anoint  my  lips  and  guide  my  hand,  that  I  may 
reveal  you,  as  a  living  reality,  unto  all  men. 


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